UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


BY 

EMMA   M.  CONNELLY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.    B.   LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 
1873- 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

EMMA    M.   CONNELLY, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


£776.2  w 


TO   THE   POET, 
-HENRY    T.    STANTON, 

(OF   FRANKFORT,    KENTUCKY,) 

THIS     BOOK 
IS   RESPECTFULLY   INSCRIBED. 


1694386 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 

PROLOGUE 9 

CHAPTER  I. 
The  Old  Prison 13 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Root  of  the  Upas-Tree 24 

CHAPTER  III. 
Surface  Impressions 3° 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Marshaling  the  Forces 38 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  "  Fascinating  Scoundrel" 43 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Chrysalis  Develops S1 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Singed  Wings       .  58 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
The  Ambitious  Man  with  a  Career  before  him,  and  the  Ambitious 

Man  whose  Career  is  closed 71 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Unexpected  Exit 78 

CHAPTER  X. 

Drifting  with  the  Current 83 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI.  PAGE 

Going  Back 99 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Beginning  which  has  no  Ending 108 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Hope  Deferred  and  Hope  Verified 117 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"  Gwynneth's  Waking  Hour  " 126 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Obstinate  Angel 141 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
That  Miss  Hughes  again 154 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
"  Lashings,"  but  not  of  "  Conscience" 168 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Broken  Fetters 178 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Unknown  Bridegroom 189 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Domestic  Bliss 199 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
The  "  Magic  Bell " 213 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
Who  Conquers? 221 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Life-Like  Statue 233 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER   XXIV.  PAGE 

Infinitude      ...........  244 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Enumerating  One's  Blessings 259 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 
Coercion  and  Persuasion 276 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
The  Fruit  of  the  Upas-Tree 288 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 
Struggling  against  the  Inevitable  .......  295 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Monomaniac 306 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
Love  in  a  Cottage 322 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


PROLOGUE. 

I  AM  socially  inclined,  good  Public,  and  want  the 
idea  of  companionship  in  the  tedious  work  of  com 
posing  a  book ;  not  a  crowd — I  cannot  talk  to  a 
crowd  :  so  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  select  one,  just  one — 
that  I  may  feel  a  strongly  exciting  individual  presence 
appealing  directly  to  my  mind ;  and  also  if  I  reject  the 
common  "reader"  of  all  other  authors.  The  term  is 
too  generalizing,  too  indistinct  and  vague.  It  pre 
sents  to  my  mind  no  real,  living,  breathing  presence, 
but  a  vast  and  conglomerate  sea  of  physiognomies,  from 
which  I  can  extract  only  a  confused  and  mingled  sense 
of  sympathy  and  disapproval,  good-will  and  antago 
nism. 

I  feel  very  kindly  disposed  toward  my  audience,  and 
wish  to  establish  the  closest  intimacy  of  thought,  that 
I  may  speak  freely  and  without  hesitation  or  reserve 
whatever  may  come  into  my  mind.  I  will  call  him 
"John,"  because  I  like  the  good,  old-fashioned  name, 
and  because  of  beautiful  childhood  associations  con 
nected  with  it,  which  make  it  £  pleasure  for  me  to  speak 
it  in  familiar  and  'friendly  tones. 

He  may  be  old  or  young,  I  do  not  care ;  I  love  the 
frank,  open  countenance  of  youth,  the  silvery  hair  of 
age,  and  all  the  gradations  between.  Some  writer  says 
that  an  author  is  always  like  a  lover;  and  so  "John" 
must  be  patient  and  amiable,  and  let  me  abuse  him  a 

A*  (9) 


I0  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

little  and  bore  him  a  great  deal,  and  then  I  will  exert 
myself  to  the  extreme  limit  of  my  capabilities,  to  be 
as  little  of  a  nuisance  and  a  grievance  in  that  line  as 
possible. 

What  I  require  of  you,  sir,  is  to  listen  attentively, 
and  comment  freely ;  but  don't  be  interrupting  me,  if 
you  please,  to  say  that  some  adjective  is  inappropriate, 
or  to  correct  my  grammar  or  rhetoric.  When  I  grow 
sublime,  John,  I  soar  above  these  trivialities.  Besides, 
I  like  a  good,  honest  mistake  occasionally.  They  show 
a  person  to  be  somewhat  above  abstract  rule. 

If  I  advance  some  old,  old  facts  with  the  air  of  having 
made  a  new  discovery,  remember  that  I  have  not  lived 
in  a  library,  and  do  not  know  all  the  things  that  have 
been  written  since  the  flood.  The  ground  I  have  to 
work  upon  is  an  ancient  track,  and  has  been  worked 
over  and  over,  until  it  is  very  barren  in  some  spots,  and 
cluttered  over  in  others  with  the  remains  of  other  har 
vesters'  crops.  No  doubt  I  have  elaborated  an  amount 
of  moralizing  for  you  to  skip,  and  it  is  just  possible  that 
there  may  be  a  lot  of  cant  and  "  twaddle"  in  my  book, 
for  one  cannot  judge  fairly  of  one's  own  performances. 

I  want  to  get  as  close  to  your  thoughts  as  possible, 
and  you  must  be  sympathetic,  John,  and  help  me  to 
conquer  that  dreadful  shyness  and  reserve  which  iso 
lates  and  shuts  off  our  minds  one  from  another.  You 
will  speak  honestly  and  freely  your  disapproval ;  but 
never  look  distant,  and  coldly  critical,  for  that  chills 
and  frightens  away  all  confidence  and  sympathy.  And 
though  you  enter  my  study  with  a  careless  smile  of  an 
ticipated  amusement,  I  think  perhaps  you  will  leave  it 
with  a  more  earnest,  Ufcough  I  hope  no  less  cheerful 
one. 

The  world  owes  more  than  it  is  willing  to  con 
fess  to  poesy  and  romance.  But  for  these  delinea 
tions  of  inner  life,  what  would  become  of  our  ideals 
of  truth,  justice,  mercy,  and  charity  in  the  dusty  march 
of  this  prosaic,  plodding  life?  Mere  material  lore, 


PROLOGUE.  H 

such  as  treats  of  the  internal  workmanship  of  the 
world,  makes  us  learned  but  not  wise  :  whereas  im 
passioned  works — such  as  act  upon  the  mind  through 
spiritual  influences — quicken  the  affections,  strengthen 
the  impressions  of  right  and  wrong,  and  elevate  one 
into  a  higher  atmosphere  than  that  of  this  world. 

"  Men  have  reflected  so  little,  upon  the  higher 
functions  of  literature,"  says  an  accomplished  writer, 
"as  to  find  it  a  paradox  if  one  should  describe  it  a 
mean  or  subordinate  purpose  of  books  to  give  informa 
tion."  Furthermore  discourseth  this  acute  philoso 
pher  and  metaphysician  :  "all  steps  of  knowledge  carry 
one  on  in  the  same  plane,  but  could  never  raise  you 
one  foot  higher,  whereas  the  very  first  step  in  power  is 
a  flight, — an  ascending  into  another  element  where 
earth  is  forgotten."  To  this  "  literature  of  power"  he 
ascribes  tragedy,  poesy,  romance  etc. 

You  wish  a  glimpse  of  our  surroundings  as  I  relate 
you  the  story  ?  Nay,  nay,  John :  what  matters  it 
whether  our  study  be  a  stately  apartment  richly  uphol 
stered  in  rosewood,  marble  and  velvet,  and  lined  with 
books  and  pictures,  or  a  meagre  nook,  as  bare  of  furni 
ture  as  a  convent  cell?  Whether  wealth  or  poverty 
preside,  it  is  classic  ground.  A  twilight  obscurity, 
such  as  has  enveloped  the  genius  of  the  pen  from  time 
immemorial,  pervades  the  sacred  precincts  ;  and  a  faint 
odor  of  that  Levantine  flower  eruditely  styled  the  papa- 
ver  somniferum  impregnates  the  air. 

You  are  somewhat  curious,  too,  in  regard  to  the  per 
sonal  appearance  of  this  companion  of  your  evening 
hours  ?  Since  you  are  to  be  plagued  with  my  society 
for  a  considerable  length  of  time,  it  would  but  be  justice 
in  me  to  allow  myself  to  be  made  as  acceptable  to  your 
tastes  as  possible.  So  I  hereby  present  you  a  carte  blanche 
on  the  human  physiognomy,  and  hope  you  will  be  enabled 
to  make  something  agreeable  out  of  it.  Paint  my  por 
trait  according  to  your  fancy,  John.  Make  me  stately 
and  imperious  as  the  haughty  Queen  Bess;  "faultily 


12  BUNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

faultless,  splendidly  null,"  as  Tennyson's  Maude;  or 
"timid  and  fearsome"  as  Faust's  Margaret,  just  as  you 
like.  Array  me  in  elegant  Parisian  toilet,  with  dia 
mond-dusted  hair ;  or  in  the  simplest  and  plainest 
attire  your  fancy  can  devise. 

But  whatever  you  make  of  me,  John,  I  beseech  of 
you,  do  not  make  me  ugly.  If  your  tastes  incline  that 
way,  I  shall  have  to  revolt,  and  decline  the  proffered 
sitting. 

"  Speak,  that  I  may  see  thee,"  was  the  requisition  of  a 
certain  philosopher,  before  he  consented  to  pronounce 
judgment  upon  the  beauty  of  a  human  being ;  and 
perhaps  you  had  better  wait  until  you  have  heard  all  I 
have  to  say  before  you  fix  your  estimate  of  my  personal 
appearance ;  and  then  I  fear,  oh !  I  fear,  my  portrait, 
"  in  your  mind's  eye,"  John,  will  be  ugly. 


THE    OLD   PRISON, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    OLD    PRISON. 

IT  is  chilly  weather,  John.  There  is  a  stiff  wind 
blowing  from  the  north,  and  the  gloomy  sky  overcasts 
a  landscape  about  as  dull  and  commonplace  as  the 
human  fancy  could  devise,  or  ragged  fences,  rifled 
corn-fields  and  mud  achieve.  Not  a  bird,  or  other 
living  thing,  in  sight.  Could  there  be  anything  less 
inviting  ? 

But  hold  :  do  not  yet  complain  that  I  have  brought 
you  to  a  spot  wholly  devoid  of  interest. 

Do'  you  see  that  great  old  weather-stained  house 
which  looms,  from  the  pinnacle  of  a  jagged  hill,  against 
the  dull  gray  sky?  A  rambling  old  country  house, — 
large  enough,  heaven  knows  ! — and  very  irregular  and 
quaint ;  with  unexpected  angles  jutting  forth  upon  all 
sides,  and  a  clumsy  porch  in  front,  about  which  is 
draped  a  tangled  net-work  of  rude  vines.  It  is  a 
wooden  building,  somewhat  gothic  in  appearance,  with 
its  long  low  roof,  from  which  project  high-pointed 
dormer-windows;  and  I  scarcely  think  they  had  been 
painted  for  a  whole  generation.  The  windows  below 
are  high  up  toward  the  roof,  unshuttered  and  small, 
and,  from  a  distance,  look  like  eyes,  and  seem  to  squint, 
as  if  they  had  grown  near-sighted  with  watching  the 
highway  for  travelers  who  never  came. 

Upon  one  hand  is  spread  out  a  little  town  of  out 
buildings,  which  stand  or  rather  squat,  disconsolately 
about,  as  if  they  contemplated  the  discretion  of  tum 
bling  down  ;  upon  the  other  an  orchard  of  gnarled 
trees,  hoary  and  straggling  with  age  and  neglect.  A 
rickety  stile,  which  defies  any  sane  person  to  mount 


I4  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

it,  and  a  rusty  pump  of  ponderous  proportions,  are  the 
sole  ornaments  of  the  front  yard,  unless  a  low-spirited 
debilitated  locust-tree  could  be  called  an  ornament. 

The  scenery  within  is  as  venerable  and  hypochondriac 
as  that  without.  Of  the  furniture  no  two  pieces  match, 
and  the  few  aged  prints  of  saints  and  madonnas  which 
adorn  the  walls  have  grown  to  look  feeble  and  dejected. 
The  rusty  door-hinges  creak  with  age,  and  the  loose 
windows  rattle  with  every  breeze.  Against  the  wall 
of  the  "best  room"  stands  an  obsolete  cabinet, — I  call 
it  obsolete  because  I  scarcely  think  another'  such  phe 
nomenon  in  the  way  of  upholstery  survives  the  flood, — 
which  maliciously  keeps  up  the  threatening  attitude  of 
being  just  ready  to  topple  over  and  precipitate  its  load 
of  dingy  documents,  which  comprise  the  family  library, 
upon  the  floor.  Above  the  mantel  of  this  respected 
room  hangs  a  picture  worthy  of  note,  containing  the 
pleasing  device  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira  in  the  act  of 
falling  dead  from  having  told  a  lie. 

The  house  is  deserted  at  present — save  by  two  ;  the 
numerous  remainder  being  scattered  abroad  upon  the 
farm,  or  in  the  barn  or  kitchen,  variously  employed. 
The  kitchen,  you  must  know,  is  detached  from  the 
house,  according  to  ancestral  ideas  of  domestic  econ 
omy,  so  that  the  temperature  of  the  viands  is  gauged 
in  accordance  with  the  state  of  the  weather  during  their 
transit  to  the  dining-room. 

The  dining-room  of  this  antiquated  homestead  serves 
also  as  a  sitting-room,  and  is  so  spacious  an  apartment 
that  even  the  log-heap,  which  blazes  and  crackles  in 
the  huge  fire-place,  is  insufficient  to  dispel  the  chilli 
ness  which  pervades  the  remote  corners. 

Upon  the  broad  rock  hearth — the  sort  of  hearth 
around  which  crickets  sing — in  the  full  blaze  and  shine 
of  the  crackling  fire,  sits  a  young  woman — no,  a  girl,  for 
she  is  twenty-two,  at  least — idly  scrawling  her  name  in 
the  ashes.  And  yet  in  her  physiognomy  indolence 
has  no  place.  There  is  a  frown  upon  her  brow — not  a 


THE    OLD   PRISON.  ^ 

frown  of  ill-temper,  but  rather  of  endurance — and  a  sort 
of  suppressed  energy  in  her  attitude  and  motions.  She 
has  a  look  of  willfulness  and  of  great  intellectual 
strength. 

The  head  is  larger  than  the  generality  of  feminine 
heads,  and  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  short 
brown  curls.  These  are  not  fancifully  arranged,  but 
swept  back  from  the  expansive  brow  in  as  unpretending 
a  fashion  as  they  could  be  persuaded  to  assume.  The 
eyebrows,  long  and  distinctly  marked',  have  a  peculiar 
curve — like  Charlotte  Cushman's,  if  you  know  how  that 
is — and  overarch  a  pair  of  remarkable-looking,  dark 
hazel  eyes.  A  creamy  complexion,  deeply  tinted- upon 
the  cheek,  a  slender,  ironical  nose,  a  small  mouth,  with 
a  short,  curved  upper  lip  and  full  under,  and  a  chin 
strongly  cut  and  rounded — and  that  was  like  the  cele 
brated  actress  too.  A  countenance  that  would  be  beau 
tiful  and  striking  under  any  circumstances. 

Her  figure  is  superb.  There  is  a  fullness  and  plenitude 
about  it  suggestive  of  future  stoutness,  though  at  pres 
ent  the  contour  is  perfect ;  added  to  all  these  physi 
cal  advantages,  she  has  a  proud  carriage  of  the  head, 
an  earnest  manner,  and  emphatic  tone  of  voice  which 
could  not  fail  to  impress. 

The  other  occupant  of  the  room  is  an  elderly  lady, 
of  feeble  nervous  organization ;  tall  and  lank  of  figure, 
with  wide  blue  eyes  full  of  wonder,  and  a  countenance 
which,  however  devoid  of  mental  strength  or  culture, 
bears  unmistakable  traces  of  good  descent.  Though 
neither  very  ready  of  wit  nor  precise  of  judgment,  this 
woman  could  never  be  induced  to  commit  a  real  mean 
or  dishonorable  act.  She  is  a  peculiar  woman,  and  one 
of  her  peculiarities  is  a  chronic  predisposition  to  sur 
prises.  She  must  have  been  created  for  some  other 
world,  and  had  somehow  got  astray,  for  it  seemed  as 
if  she  could  never  get  used  to  this  one,  and  lived  in  a 
constant  state  of  surprise  at  it. 

"But,  ma,"   the  daughter  is   saying   (for  they  are 


16  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

mother  and  daughter,  though  there  is  nothing  in  their 
appearance  to  indicate  so  near  a  relation),  "  there  is 
no  use  in  me  going  into  the  kitchen  now.  Fan  is  nearly 
through  ironing  by  this  time ;  and  besides,  there's  Sal, — 
I  don't  see  why  Sal  can't  do  more,  anyway." 

And  the  determined  tone  in  which  she  speaks  con 
vinces  you  that  she  is  not  going  into  the  kitchen,  no 
matter  what  transpires  to  urge  it. 

"You  know  Sallie  has  so  many  children  to  look 
after,"  returned  the  mother,  "that  she  has  very  little 
time  left  for  other  things." 

"  Well,  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  the  use  in  keep 
ing  servants  if  they  are  to  spend  the  whole  of  their  time 
in  looking  after  their  children." 

"  You  know,  Adele,  that  you  would  hate  as  badly  as 
any  of  us  to  see  Sallie  and  her  children  turned  adrift  in 
the  world,  especially  when  her  good  old  mother  had 
served  us  faithfully  so  long." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  Sal's  mother,"  re 
turned  Adele;  "I  have  a  dim  remembrance  of  a  big 
funeral,  and  high  old  carryings  on.  /  hid  up  in  the 
garret,  I  recollect,  and  remained  there  until  they  had 
all  cleared  out  with  their  inhuman  howling." 

"Well,  then,"  said  her  mother,  "go  and  get  your 
blue  dress  and  mend  it.  You  haven't  done  one  earthly 
thing  to-day." 

"  Ma,  I  don't  want  to  wear  that  old  blue  dress  any 
more.  Fan  can  have  it,  or  Sal." 

"  Oh,  Adele,  I  wish  you  were  ugly  like  your  sisters. 
Then  perhaps  you  would  be  of  some  account." 

This  remark  elicited  no  reply,  and  in  the  few  mo 
ments  of  silence  which  ensued  she  relinquished  her 
scribbling  in  the  ashes  to  contemplate  her  surroundings, 
with  a  strong  expression  of  disapproval. 

"  I  wonder  this  old  house  don't  tumble  down  some 
of  these  windy  nights,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  it  would  !" 

The  few  ancient  pieces  of  furniture  scattered  along 
the  wall,  and  the  wide  expanse  of  floor  which  spread 


THE    OLD   PRISON.  Xy 

abroad,  like  a  bare  plain,  with  little  roads  of  dull  car 
peting  straggling  across  it,  made  up  a  picture  that  "was 
dreary  indeed  to  contemplate. 

"Adele,  you  ought  to  be  thankful  that  you  have  a 
shelter  to  cover  your  head,"  said  her  mother,  reprov 
ingly,  "which  is  more  than  many  have  who  are  better 
than  you." 

"Heavens!  how  I  hate  to  be  poor!"  continued 
Adele,  banging  the  hearth  with  her  poker  by  way  of 
emphasis.  "Where's  the  use  for  me  to  work?  I 
might  drudge  my  whole  life  away,  and  the  miserable 
scratch  I  could  accomplish  could  scarce  be  detected 
with  a  microscope.  There  are  only  two  ways  by  which 
I  could  earn  my  bread, — teaching  and  sewing;  I  hate 
both,  and.  would  sooner  starve  and  be  done  with  it, 
than  drivel  my  life  off  in  such  pitiful  ways.  Ma,  why 
did  you  have  such  a  swarm  of  children?  Now,  if  there 
had  been  only  Tom  and  me  !  and  you  know  we  are 
the  only  ones  who  are  likely  to  be  of  any  credit  to 
you :  unless  it  is  Herve,  who  will  make  just  such  an 
old  fogy  farmer  as  pa. ' ' 

"I  hope  he  will,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the  mother 
fervently. 

"  But,  as  it  is,"  resumed  Adele,  "  Tom  had  to  lie  to 
his  stylish  chums  at  college,  about  the  '  miserly  old 
governor,'  who  was  so  excessively  '  economical,'  that 
the  poor  fellow  never  had  a  spare  dime  to  throw  in  on 
a  treat." 

"Holy  mother!"  exclaimed  the  invalid,  in  a  shrill 
tone.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  that  Tom's  as  bad  as 
that  !  My  honest  Tom,  who  wouldn't  tell  his  mother 
a  lie  for  anything." 

"  Oh,  there  was  never  any  need  of  Tom's  telling  his 
mother  a  lie, — because  his  mother  was  ready  to  believe 
him  under  any  circumstances.  But  at  school  it  was 
somewhat  different.  Tom  had  to  lie  to  keep  up  his 
position.  Why,  if  the  students  had  got  any  idea  of  the 
state  of  pa's  finances,  all  the  first  class  fellows  would 

o* 


Z8  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

have  dropped  him,  and  Tom  you  know  couldn't  have 
stood  that ;  he  loves  company  too  well,  and  he's  too 
high-strung  to  take  second-rate." 

"Poor  fellow!"  ejaculated  the  mother  feebly,  "I 
wish  we  were  rich,  that  he  might  not  be  so  tempted." 

"  Well,  ma,  it  was  just  as  bad  for  me.  I  had  always 
such  a  long  string  of  lies  to  confess  that  Father  Heenan 
was  forever  setting  me  Hail  Marys, — but  I  never  said 
"em." 

"Holy  Mary!  You  wicked  girl!  That  comes  of 
your  not  saying  your  beads  regularly.  I  knew,  when 
you  threw  that  scapula  in  the  fire,  which  the  holy 
Father  McGregor  had  blessed,  that  no  good  would 
come  of  it.  And,  Adele,  you  knew  it  contained  a  piece 
of  the  sacred  cross. " 

"  Sacred  nothing  !  that  was  no  more  a  piece  of  the 
cross  than  that  chip  there.  Besides,  if  it  had  been  a 
piece  of  Christ  himself  I  couldn't  have  worn  it,  after 
that  devilish  old  hypocrite  had  touched  it.  I  should 
have  thought  of  him  and  how  I  hated  him  every  time  I 
saw  it." 

"Holy  mother!  forgive  the  child.  I  don't  know 
what  is  to  become  of  her.  I  don't  indeed  !" 

The  mother  dropped  feebly  back  upon  her  couch ; 
the  daughter  poked  the  fire  nonchalantly,  and  a  high, 
gaunt  clock  in  a  distant  corner  of  the  room — a  league 
off,  it  seemed — briskly  clanged  the  hour  of  four.  Sim 
ultaneously  there  was  a  smart  rapping  at  the  door. 
Adele  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Sal !  Sal  !"  she  called, 
tapping  upon  the  window  nearest  the  kitchen.  "  Come 
here  and  go  to  the  door !  I  guess  you  can  leave  your 
precious  offspring  long  enough  for  that.  Oh,  heavens  ! 
these  shoes  !" 

She  shuffled  off  the  shabby  slippers  she  wore,  and 
hastily  drew  on  a  pair  of  gaiters.  A  few  strokes  of 
the  luxuriant  brown  hair,  and  she  was  ready  for  any 
emergency. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  colored  handmaiden 


THE    OLD   PRISON.  !9 

ushered  in  a  young  lady,luxuriously  hooded  and  cloaked 
in  velvet  and  astrachan,  and  benignly  beaming  in 
serene,  complacent  smiles.  She  was  tall,  fair,  of  gen 
tle  feminine  countenance,  and  wore  a  certain  air  of 
distinction  difficult  to  describe. 

"Good  heavens!  Ophelia  Berges  !  What  brought 
you  here?"  exclaimed  Adele,  looking  as  if  she  scarcely 
credited  her  senses. 

"  What  brought  me  here?"  returned  the  young  lady, 
with  a  sort  of  quiet  rapture  in  face  and  tone.  "That 
same  dilapidated  hack — the  only  one  the  thriving  vil 
lage  of  Jonestown  could  afford — which  you  see  toiling 
up  your  acclivity  out  there,"  pointing  through  the 
uncurtained  window,  "which  is  called  a  hill  in  these 
parts,  I  suppose.  Come,  Adele ;  get  a  little  of  the 
surprise  out  of  your  face  ;  I  want  to  see  how  you  look. ' ' 

There  was  a  singular  look  upon  Adele's  countenance, 
— such  as  the  delinquent  prodigal  son  might  have  worn 
upon  first  beholding  his  injured  father's  face,  made  up 
of  delight  and  fear,  sickening  fear.  But  it  was  gone  in 
an  instant,  the  mazed  expression  passed  off  from  her 
countenance,  and  snatching  her  friend  to  her  breast, 
she  kissed  her  vehemently.  The  young  stranger  was 
then  presented  to  "Mrs.  Hughes,"  whose  constitutional 
amazement  seemed  augmented  to  an  unusual  degree. 

"  Well  now,  I  do  declare  !"  she  exclaimed,  wonder- 
ingly.  "  Who  would  have  dreamed  of  such  a  thing? 
Adele  never  expected  to  see  you  again.  Never  on 
earth  !  and  sometimes  she  would  cry  over  your  letters, 
she  would  indeed  (it  was  the  only  thing  that  could  make 
Adele  cry),  because  she  could  never  dress  well  enough 
to  visit  you  in  the  city,  and  she  thought  it  would  never 
do  to  ask  you  to  come  away  out  here  among  the  hills, 
to  this  old  place  which  she  and  Tom  are  so  ashamed  of." 

"Never  mind  about  that  now,  ma,"  said  Adele. 
sharply.  "  Now  that  she  is  here,  I  am  too  glad  to  care 
whether  she  will  like  the  old  house  or  not." 

"Adele  never  told  me  what  a  singular  romantic  old 


20  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

home  she  had,"  said  Miss  Berges,  stretching  her  feet 
toward  the  fire,  and  looking  about  the  room  with  an  air 
of  quiet  enjoyment. 

"  No,"  returned  Adele,  keenly  regarding  her  friend, 
"I  gave  you  to  understand  that  it  was  quite  different. 
I  was  just  at  this  moment  confessing  to  ma  the  lies  I 
considered  it  necessary  to  tell  at  school  to  keep  up  my 
position." 

"I  was  agreeably  surprised,  I  assure  you,"  returned 
Miss  Berges.  "I  had  pictured  a  great,  new,  square, 
factory-looking  building,  without  porch  or  veranda, 
and  totally  bare  of  ornament,  such  as  we  usually  see 
stationed  along  railroads.  But  this, — ages  of  poesy 
and  romance  seem  to  have  breathed  upon  it !" 

"You  like  it?"  exclaimed  Adele,  with  a  breath  of 
relief.  "  Well,  then,  I  don't  care  how  hideous  it  is. 
That  is  why  I  hated  it  and  wanted  a  finer  one,  that  you 
might  visit  me  with  some  prospect  of  enjoying  yourself." 

"I  never  saw  anything  like  it!"  Her  soft,  bright 
eye  rested  with  peculiar  interest  upon  a  flight  of  steps 
which  extended  some  distance  into  the  room,  as  if  they 
had  got  a  start  from  the  top,  and  had  not  been  able  to 
stop  sooner ;  an  eye-sore  to  Tom  and  Adele,  who,  when 
they  had  nothing  else  to  abuse,  fell  upon  it. 

"Tell  me,  Ophelia,"  said  Adele,  "how  you  hap 
pened  to  come.  I  should  as  soon  have  expected  a 
three-tailed  pacha  or  a  long-eyed  bey  of  the  Ottomans." 

"I  had  thought  of  it  for  some  time,"  returned 
Ophelia,  "  though  I  said  nothing  to  you,  nor  to  any 
one,  until  this  morning.  I  love  to  walk  in  on  people 
and  find  them  in  their  natural  every-day  looks.  Nothing 
appears  to  advantage  in  company  harness.  Papa  and 
mamma  were  going  to  Uncle  Woolford's,  and  I  begged 
off  at  Jonestown.  I  knew  if  I  gave  them  time  to  con 
sider  they  would  object  to  my  coming  in  that  old  hack 
alone.  And  so,  here  I  am  for  a  whole  week  !  I  had  an 
idea  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  though  you  had 
never  invited  me  to  come." 


THE    OLD  PRISON.  21 

"Glad?"  exclaimed  Adele,  and  then  desisted,  in 
titter  contempt  of  words.  Then  she  bethought  her  to 
go  and  order  a  fire  to  be  built  in  the  "  best  room,"  and 
extra  preparations  projected  for  supper. 

Ophelia  Berges  was  very  unlike  her  friend.  She  was 
as  tall,  but  not  so  robust  and  blooming.  Her  face  was 
of  a  pure  oval,  and  delicately,  yet  decisively,  featured. 
A  profusion  of  fair  Saxon  hair  was  twisted  about  the 
crown  of  her  head,  according  to  the  prevailing  mode ; 
the  large,  blue-gray  eyes,  somewhat  dreamy  and  lan 
guid,  were  spanned  by  long,  slender  brows,  which,  sin 
gularly  enough,  were  black:  this  being  the  only  pecu 
liarity  of  the  grave,  retentive  face  ;  not  beautiful, — once 
for  all,  let  me  assure  you,  this  young  lady,  so  far  as 
physique  is  concerned,  is  not  beautiful;  though,  I  own, 
there  might  be  a  few  persons  to  whom  she  would  appear 
lovely  and  fascinating  beyond  the  most  resplendent  of 
her  sex.  Yet  her  manner  had  somewhat  to  do  with 
that :  a  modest,  unassertive  manner  that  made  no 
claims, — accepting  admiration  without  elation,  and 
indifference  without  discontent. 

When  Mrs.  Hughes  had  wondered  to  her  own  satis 
faction  over  the  fashionable  attire  of  the  stranger,  and 
extracted  whatever  other  pabulum  for  amazement  she 
could,  Adele  convoyed  her  into  the  "front  room." 

Why  is  it  that  the  parlors  of  these  far-away  country 
houses  have  the  inhospitable  look  and  chill  atmosphere 
of  a  tomb?  As  Ophelia  Berges,  the  gregarious  city 
girl,  entered  this  prim  company  room,  she  felt  a  chill 
creep  through  her  veins. 

•4'  Do  scatter  the  chairs,  Adele,  and  rumple  that  stiff 
curtain  !"  she  exclaimed,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  and 
shivering  slightly.  "  Tumble  something  about.  Things 
look  like  they  were  arranged  for  a  funeral." 

When  Ophelia  walked  out  to  supper,  about  an  hour 
after,  she  was  astonished  at  the  army  surrounding  the 
table.  You  shall  be  spared  the  individual  portraiture 
of  this  multitudinous  domestic  assemblage,  John.  There 


22  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

are  two,  however,  whom  it  is  necessary  you  should 
know.  Tom,  the  eldest, — the  dandy  and  "lion"  of 
the  family, — is  a  showy  young  gentleman,  whose  small 
stock  of  talents  is  so  furbished  up  and  skillfully  dis 
played  as  to  have  the  appearance  of  many,  and  whose 
assurance  stands  him  in  stead  of  more  substantial  quali 
ties.  He  is  ruddy  complexioned,  has  a  quick,  keen 
eye,  a  ready  smile,  and  a  tongue  as  glib,  as  freshly-oiled 
machinery ;  a  fair  specimen  of  the  "  young  man  of  the 
period."  Herve  is  two  years  younger  than  his  brother ; 
a  broad-shouldered,  sturdy  young  Hercules,  with  a 
quiet  gray  eye,  a  cheerful  countenance,  and  a  frank, 
unassuming  manner. 

"  Well,"  said  the  head  of  the  house  (of  whom  Herve 
was  a  pretty  correct  copy),  when  the  first  restraint  had 
worn  off,  "  what  do  you  think  of  our  life  among  the 
hills?" 

"I  can  scarcely  tell  just  yet,"  said  the  visitor,  run 
ning  a  deliberate  glance  over  the  group  surrounding 
the  table;  "the  difference  is  not  so  great  as  I  had 
expected,  so  far  from  the  city." 

"Not  quite  so  benighted  as  you  had  thought?"  in 
quired  Tom,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  had  expected  to  find  you  at  least  a  little  in  the  rear 
of  city  people  in  refinement  and  culture,"  she  returned. 

"How  do  you  know  that  we  are  not?"  inquired 
Herve,  blankly. 

"  Oh,  that  is  plain  enough,"  said  the  young  lady, 
smiling  upon  the  ingenuous,  open  countenance  across 
the  table.  "  Your  faces,  manner,  and  voices  tell  me 
that,  although  you  may  not  have  been  much  abroad  in 
the  world,  you  are  accustomed  to  good  society.  I  would 
know  you  for  educated  people  under  any  circum 
stances." 

This  was  spoken  so  seriously  and  unaffectedly  that 
the  head  of  the  household  smiled  complacently  upon 
his  flock  as  he  replied  :  "  You  city  people  take  the  palm 
in  reading  countenances, — you  have  good  opportunities 


THE    OLD   PRISON.  23 

for  studying  them ;  but  you  are  not  generally  deep 
thinkers.  The  variety  of  city  life  tends  to  scatter  and 
dissipate  thought.  Now  that  you  have  discovered  cul 
ture  in  a  place  you  had  supposed  inaccessible  to  it,  let 
us  see  if  you  can  trace  it  to  its  source." 

"  There  was  culture  to  begin  with,"  ventured  Ophe 
lia,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "You  and  your  wife 
were  educated  people." 

"  I  thought  you  would  miss  it,"  he  returned,  looking 
gratified.  "Don't  you  know  that  young  folks  are  in 
fluenced  more  by  their  associates  than  by  their  parents  ? 
It  is  almost  always  the  case,  and  but  for  some  very 
powerful  auxiliaries  we  could  not  have  kept  our  chil 
dren  far  above  their  rude  companions." 

"Teachers?"  suggested  Ophelia. 

"Yes,  teachers,"  he  replied,  "and  very  effective 
ones, — that  is,  the  best  periodicals  the  country  affords. 
You  will  find  my  children  all  pretty  well  up  with  the 
times." 

"  Good  periodicals  not  only  keep  us  up  with  the 
times,"  said  Herve;  "that  would  be  a  rather  eva 
nescent  sort  of  acquirement,  but  they  point  us  to  more 
substantial  sources  for  obtaining  knowledge.  Though 
we  have  but  few  books,  you  will  find  them  well  selected, 
good,  and  instructive." 

"It  is  true,  Adele  and  Tom  have  had  the  additional 
advantage  of  browsing  a  year  or  two  in  colleges,"  con 
tinued  the  confidential  paterfamilias ;  "  Herve  chose 
a  medical  course  instead, — and  came  back  crammed 
with  a  lot  of  rubbish,  like  stuffed  birds." 

"Useless,  so  long  as  we  are  imprisoned  in  this  wil 
derness,"  said  Tom  ;  which  served  as  a  text  for  a  short 
and  pointed  discourse  from  Adele,  to  the  effect  that 
life,  within  ' '  that  old  shell, ' '  was  not  worth  considering. 
The  subject  went  the  rounds  ;  "  we  might  as  well  be  in 
prison  ;  we  have  no  congenial  associates,  no  congenial 
pursuits. ' ' 

The  two  homely  elder  sisters  alone  defended  their 


24  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

rugged  home  ;  perhaps  from  a  spirit  of  antagonism,  per 
haps  because  they  were  too  proud  to  appear  ashamed  of 
their  surroundings,  or  more  likely  could  look  for  nothing 
better  beyond.  Herve  said  nothing. 

The  young  stranger  seemed  to  be  a  close  observer, 
though  of  a  quiet,  reflective  turn,  and  not  much  gifted 
in  small  talk.  It  might  have  been  that  she  was  think 
ing,  just  then,  of  how  ungrateful  and  unappreciative 
children  are  generally  for  all  the  favors  lavished  upon 
them  by  their  parents ;  typical  of  the  ingratitude  of  man 
for  the  continued  goodness  of  the  eternal  Father. 

How  many  times,  John,  have  you  exclaimed,  "  Oh, 
if  I  only  lived  in  the  peaceful  seclusion  of  country  life, 
under  my  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  how  much  better  I  could 
be"? 

But,  John,  it  is  a  melancholy  fact,  that  human 
nature,  however  favorable  the  circumstances  may  be, 
invariably  fails  to  reach  even  the  boundaries  of  perfec 
tion  ;  and  that  there  is  no  place  too  remote  for  the 
seeds  of  discontent  to  find  their  way,  or  too  sterile  for 
the  noxious  plant  to  flourish  luxuriantly. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   ROOT    OF   THE   UPAS-TREE. 

Now,  John,  if  I  were  talking  to  the  public  at  large 
instead  of  you, — just  you, — I  would  entirely  omit  this 
chapter;  for  the  "public  at  large,"  I  know,  will  con 
sider  it  an  exceedingly  dry  and  uninteresting  one. 
But,  John,  these  thoughts  have  a  strong  hold  upon  my 
mind  and  must  be  expressed,  even  at  the  risk  of  incur 
ring  your  displeasure  at  the  very  outset  of  our  acquaint 
ance.  Therefore,  I  will  only  hope  that  your  generous 


THE  ROOT  OF  THE    UPAS-TREE. 


25 


heart,  which,  I  am  sure,  feels  more  concern  for  the 
good  of  human-kind  than  for  your  own  individual 
entertainment,  will  approve  of  my  efforts  toward  the 
demolishing  of  an  evil,  which,  like  the  ill-favored  kine 
of  Pharaoh's  vision,  devours  the  fat  of  the  land. 

The  Hughes  family  were  not  endowed  with  a  variety 
of  financial  resources.  Hogs  and  brandy  were  the 
staple  of  their  income.  The  hogs,  as  an  important 
feature  of  farm-life,  must  be  exhibited  to  the  visitor; 
so  the  young  ladies  were  escorted  to  the  "corn-pen" 
one  evening,  to  see  them  fed.  There  was  a  host  of 
them,  to  be  sure,  and  it  was  curious  to  witness  the 
wonderful  energy  and  cheerfulness  these  slothful  crea 
tures  exhibited — like  some  worthy  people  I  have  seen — 
over  their  meals.  The  hogs  are  utilized  at  last ;  I 
wonder  if -the  people  are  ! 

The  hogs,  not  representing  any  important  purpose  to 
the  visitor,  "soon  lost  the  power  to  charm,  and  Ophelia's 
wandering  eye,  in  quest  of  something  more  interesting, 
lit  upon  an  unaccountable  building  in  the  distance. 

"What  is  that?"   she  inquired. 

"  That"  returned  the  old  gentleman,  curtly,  "is  a 
distillery." 

Ophelia  looked  shocked.  She  had  seen  so  much  of 
drunkenness  in  the  city,  that,  with  her  inquiring  mind, 
it  was  not  possible  she  should  not  have  traced  this  giant 
evil  to  its  source. 

"  Sometimes  I  almost  determine  to  tear  it  down," 
said  Mr.  Hughes,  observing  the  change  in  her  counte 
nance.  "But  my  income  makes  such  narrow  escapes 
each  year  of  falling  short  of  our  necessities,  that  I  am 
withheld,  from  the  fear  of  coming  to  want.  And  then 
I  hate  to  see  the  fruit  going  to  waste." 

"If  you  only  had  a  railroad,"  returned  Ophelia, 
"  you  might  ship  your  fruit  and  grain  to  the  city,  and 
thereby  contribute  a  part  toward  the  comfort  and  sup 
port  of  the  country." 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  better,  perhaps ;  but  who  is  going 


26  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

to  cut  one  through  these  cliffs?"  he  returned.  "I 
know  a  distillery  is  not  a  blessing  to  a  community,  but 
you  see  necessity  drives  me  into  it." 

"Perhaps  you  might  be  enabled  to  diminish  your 
necessities  if  your  income  was  made  less,"  suggested 
Ophelia. 

"Oh,  that  seems  quite  practicable  to  people  who 
have  never  been  deprived  of  the  comforts  of  life,"  said 
Mr.  Hughes,  a  little  sternly.  "  Theory  and  practice, 
you  must  know,  present  widely  different  views.  One 
is  looking  upon  life  from  a  parlor  window,  the  other 
from  a  tread-mill.  This  lofty  moralizing  of  you  parlor 
people  seldom  produces  any  result.  The  real  reforma 
tion  of  the  world  lies  in  mechanics,  which  will  widen 
and  multiply  opportunities  for  earning  our  bread,  .so 
that  we  may  not  be  driven  into  crooked  by-ways,  and 
lighten  our  labor,  that  we  may  have  more  leisure  for 
enlightening  our  minds." 

"  But  first  you  must  get  your  public  into  a  state  of 
willingness  to  be  enlightened,"  she  returned  archly; 
"  and  I  should  like  to  hear  how  you  would  propose  to 
accomplish  that." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  your  theorizing  and  your  moralizing 
from  parlor  windows  would  ccme  in  play  there,"  he 
replied,  with  a  smile;  "but  it  takes  an  immense 
amount  of  it  to  produce  any  practical  result." 

"Yes,  and  it  takes  an  immense  amount  of  your 
working  in  the  '  tread-mill '  to  complete  a  successful 
work,"  she  rejoined. 

"There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  dispense  with  either," 
said  Herve,  who  had  been  listening  attentively  for 
some  time;  "because  both  are  equally  necessary  and 
essentiat  powers.  For  instance,  intemperance  will 
never  be  expelled  from  a  land  until  the  people  are 
brought  to  reflect  seriously  on  what  a  formidable  and 
potent  power  of  evil  it  is,  and  to  act  upon  the  thought 
in  clearing  the  country  of  every  institution  which  con 
tributes  to  its  support." 


THE   ROOT  OF  THE    UPAS-TREE.  27 

"It  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Mr.  Hughes,  looking 
slightly  offended,  "  nor  the  fault  of  any  other  distiller, 
that  men  will  be  such  fools  as  to  get  drunk.  We  are 
bound  to  have  whisky  for  medicinal  purposes,  and 
some  one  must  make  it.  If  I  don't,  some  one  else 
will." 

"And  yet,"  said  Herve  sternly,  waving  his  hand 
toward  the  distillery,  "this  is  the  root  of  the  upas- 
tree,  which  spreads  its  blighting  influences  throughout 
the  land.  And  so  flimsy  is  the  foundation  of  human 
justice,  that  the  well-to-do  distiller,  holding  himself 
aloof  from  the  misery  he  causes,  is  considered  a  respect 
able  and  virtuous  person,  while  the  saloon-keeper  is 
scoffed  at  and  spit  upon  by  all  upright  citizens  as  the 
obnoxious  cause  of  all  the  misery  of  drunkenness;  per 
haps  upon  the  principle  of  Cicero,  who  considered 
trade  irredeemably  base  if  upon  a  small  scale,  but  not 
so  utterly  despicable  if  wholesale" 

Mr.  Hughes  made  no  reply,  but  turned  and  went 
toward  the  house,  perhaps  not  caring  to  engage  before 
auditors  in  a,  discussion  which  must  ultimately  result 
in  his  own  confusion. 

"You  are  right!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  nodding  ap 
provingly  toward  Herve. 

"I  wish  I  could  make  my  father  think  so,"  said 
Herve,  with  a  sigh.  "  There  is  more  money  in  the 
whisky  trade  than  in  any  other,  so  he  shuts  his  eyes  to 
the  evil  it  causes,  builds  all  sorts  of  flimsy  arguments 
about  his  conscience,  and  will  not  see  what  a  blotch 
his  distillery  is  upon  the  face  of  the  country.  If  the 
sensible  distiller  could  only  be  induced  to  rise  for  a 
moment  above  the  little  concern  of  his  own  fortune 
and  take  a  fair  look  at  his  distillery,  and  reflect  how  it 
absorbs  the  nourishing  fruits  of  the  land,  giving  in 
return  poison  with  which  to  obliterate  the  nobler 
instincts  of  his  race,  and  render  thousands  of  homes 
more  wretched  than  his  watch-dog's  kennel,  saloons, 
distilleries,  and  drunken  revels  would  melt  away  and 


2g  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

disappear  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  he  will  not 
trust  himself  to  reflect  upon  the  subject,  for  fear  he  will 
be  induced  to  relinquish  a  lucrative  business." 

"I  think  you  had  better  stop  there,  Herve,"  inter 
rupted  Adele.  "  You  have  said  about  enough  against 
your  father." 

"  Pa  only  distills  for  medicinal  purposes,"  said  Tom; 
but  the  hue  of  Tom's  eye  testified  to  the  fact  that  other 
purposes  were  included. 

The  fact  is,  no  one  ever  heard  of  a  distiller  who  did 
not  distill  merely  for  medicinal  purposes ;  but  somehow 
the  bulk  of  the  distillations  goes  to  make  brutes  of  their 
fellow-men. 

Once  for  all,  why  does  not  the  government  take  the 
distillery  business  out  of  the  hands  of  individual  specu 
lators,  and  manufacture  simply  the  amount  required  for 
medicinal  purposes  ? 

Suppose,  John,  that  you  were  organizing  in  some 
beautiful  and  fertile  country  a  colony  which  you  desired 
to  make  a  perfect  Arcadia  of  peace  and  plenty,  would 
you  say  to  the  distiller  and  his  indispensable  aid,  the 
bar-keeper,  "  Sirs,  our  peace  and  prosperity  are  incom 
plete  without  you.  Come  and  do  your  part  toward 
creating  upon  this  earth  a  new  paradise  "? 

Ah,  no,  my  good,  sensible  John.  You  shake  your 
head.  "  I  should  not  want  them  in  my  Arcadian  vil 
lage,"  is  your  verdict. 

Ah,  John,  it  sickens  me  to  look  into  men's  souls 
and  see  upon  what  worthless,  unsound  principles  and 
purposes  the  most  of  them  hinge  their  lives.  How 
they  will  smother  down  generous  impulses,  stifle  their 
consciences,  lie,  cheat,  and  steal  for  gain  ! 

It  is  a  good  thing — a  thing  everlastingly  to  be  grate 
ful  for — that  there  is  no  practicable  method  for  limiting 
the  air  we  breathe,  or  we  would  have  the  sky  above  us 
divided  into  compartments  by  the  enterprising  inhabit 
ants  of~this  world,  and  sold  to  the  highest  bidder. 


THE   ROOT  OF   THE    UPAS-TREE. 


29 


What  is  wealth,  at  last,  when  cast  in  the  balance  with 
other  human  achievements?  wealth,  which  in  our  demo 
cratic  country  seldom  lasts  through  two  generations, 
being  accumulated  by  the  father  and  squandered  by  the 
son. 

The  man  who  amasses  a  fortune  seldom  makes  use 
of  it.  The  notoriety  it  creates,  the  precedence  it 
gives,  suffices  for  him.  Descending  to  the  bottom  of 
all  human  structures,  do  we  not  find  the  greater  portion 
of  them  resting  upon  just  such  a  foundation? 

A  few — the  nobility  of  this  earth — work  for  the  good 
of  the  race  ;  but  the  greater  portion  build  a  temple 
unto  themselves  for  the  perpetuation  and  aggrandize 
ment  of  their  own  name.  Beyond  the  short  sojourn 
of  this  life,  in  the  searching  light  of  eternity,  the  work 
of  their  life  will  appear  a  bauble  for  which  they  have 
bartered  their  souls. 

You  remember,  John,  that  glittering  but  insubstan 
tial  ice-palace  erected  by  the  Russian  empress  Eliza 
beth,  with  which  to  spread  abroad  the  glory  of  her 
name?  Listen,  my  friend,  and  take  heed  how  the 
structure  of  your  own  life  compares  with  the  poet's 
picture  of  the  czarina's  "  Folly  "  : 

"  Lamps  gracefully  disposed  and  of  all  hues 
Illumined  every  side  ;  a  watery  light 
Gleamed  through  the  clear  transparency,  that  seemed 
Another  moon  new  risen ; — 

Long  wavy  wreaths 

Of  flowers  that  feared  no  enemy  but  warmth 
Blushed  on  the  panels.     Mirror  needed  none 
Where  all  was  vitreous ;  but  in  order  due 
Convivial  table  and  commodious  seat 
(What  seemed,  at  least,  commodious  seat)  were  there ! 
Sofa  and  couch,  and  high-built  throne  august. 
The  same  lubricity  was  found  in  all, 
And  all  was  moist  to  the  warm  touch ;  a  scene 
Of  evanescent  glory,  once  a  stream, 
And  soon  to  slide  into  a  stream,  again. 
'Twas  transient  in  its  nature  as  in  show 
'Twas  durable ;  as  worthless  as  it  seemed 
Intrinsically  precious ;  to  the  foot 
Treacherous  and  false — it  smiled,  and  it  was  cold." 

26* 


3o  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

CHAPTER  III. 

SURFACE   IMPRESSIONS. 

WITHOUT,  a  cold,  dark,  ugly  night;  a  night  that 
moans  and  tosses  fitfully,  as  a  sleeper  struggling  with 
troubled  dreams.  Within,  flaring  lamps,  flowing  cur 
tains,  and  ample  fires. 

The  two  friends  are  seated  upon  either  side  of  a 
small  table,  which  is  piled  with  books  and  papers,  old, 
old  periodicals,  in  which  might  be  found  the  early 
efforts  of  authors  who  now  perch  upon  the  topmost  pin 
nacle  of  fame ;  and  of  others  equally  promising,  who 
have  descended  into  obscurity.  Upon  the  successes 
and  failures  of  these  the  two  youthful  philosophers 
speculated  with  great  earnestness. 

Ophelia's  mind  was  somewhat  plodding,  and  worked 
by  easy  and  comfortable  stages  toward  conclusions. 
Adele's  fancy,  on  the  contrary,  had  run  wild  in  the 
brooding  solitude  of  her  lovely  country  home,  and 
was  not  to  be  restrained  by  the  respectable  harness  of 
fact,  but  plunged  tumultuously  into  wild  and  dangerous 
paths,  dallying  over  unfathomable  abysses  of  thought, 
or  soaring  into  awesome  heights  of  speculation,  and 
ever  with  a  tendency  to  mirthfulness,  even  in  the 
sublimest  precincts  of  thought. 

Observe  them  well ;  mark  the  striking  differences  in 
them.  The  blonde  with  her  black  brows  and  sunny 
hair,  her  tranquil,  questioning  gray  eyes,  and  arched, 
flame-colored  mouth,  about  which  there  always  lurks  a 
quiet  smile.  "A  face  which  expresses  nothing  but 
amiability  and  sweetness,"  you  say. 

Ay !  and  you  might  watch  it  unremittingly  for 
years,  and  still  it  is  likely  your  verdict  would  remain 
the  same. 


SURFACE   IMPRESSIONS.  31 

"  Otherwise  it  has  nothing  in  it,"  and  you  turn  away 
a  little  vexedly  ;  but  your  glance  returns  again  and 
again,  each  time  with  increasing  interest.  You  are  a 
shrewd  observer  and  are  not  to  be  misled.  "It  has 
much  in  it,"  is  your  final  conclusion,  "  hidden,  hidden 
so  far  beneath  the  smooth  surface  that  she  herself  has 
no  knowledge  of  it.  She  judges  herself  according  to 
the  voice  of  her  associates, — that  she  is  an  angel  of 
goodness,  an  example  for  the  world,  and  that  she  could 
never,  never  be  tempted  into  evil.  But  there  is  other 
beneath. 

How  much  in  contrast  to  the  quiet,  effortless  move 
ments  and  liquid  tones  of  the  one  are  the  swift,  electric 
motions  and  clear,  ringing  voice  of  the  other !  Observe 
that  keen, -dark  eye,  that  mobile  mouth.  "There  is 
more  strength  and  energy  in  this  one,"  you  say.  But 
judge  not  hastily.  We  are  told  by  Ruskin — one  of 
those  admirable  writers  with  whom  I  am  continually 
wanting  to  shake  hands  as  I  read — that  in  a  hand-to- 
hand  fight  it  is  not  muscle  that  fails  first,  but  breath ; 
and  that  the  longest  breathed  will,  on  the  average,  be 
the  victor,  not  the  strongest ;  and  so  the  race  is  not  to 
the  swift,  but  to  the  wise.  The  intensely  energetic 
consume  and  utterly  destroy  their  own  strength  by 
excess,  as  also  "  the  inspired  creature  by  its  own  fire." 

"Why  do  you  frown  and  look  so  glum,  Adele?" 
inquired  Ophelia,  inspecting  her  companion  serenely, 
as  she  sat  staring  moodily  into  the  fire. 

"  Because  I  feel  wicked  and  ugly." 

"  About  what,  Adele?" 

"  You  ask  that,  when  .you  know  that  upon  to-morrow 
we  are  to  be  separated,  in  all  probability  forever !" 

"To-morrow!"  exclaimed  the  low,  musical  voice. 
"  Why  will  not  the  foolish  people  accept  the  pleasures 
of  to-day  with  gratitude  and  make  the  best  of  them, 
without  grumbling  about  what  may  or  may  not  happen 
on  the  morrow  ?  This  perpetual  foreboding  overclouds 
and  tarnishes  everything." 


32 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


"Oh,  pshaw!"  exclaimed  the  other,  poking  the 
fire  vigorously,  "it  is  well  enough  for  you,  whose  future 
is  so  full  of  promise,  to  say  that.  You  are  not,  like 
me,  to  part  with  your  all  to-morrow.  Oh,  Ophelia,  I 
wish  you  could  love  me  a  little  more  ! — I  have  nothing 
but  you  that  I  can  love.  You  are  my  religion.  (Oh, 
I  know  all  you  are  going  to  say  about  idols  of  clay,  and 
all  that,  so  you  needn't  say  it.)  I  must  worship  some 
thing,  and  you  impress  me  more  deeply  than  any  other 
being,  human  or  divine.  Perhaps  it  serves  me  right 
that  you  will  not  be  moved  by  my  idolatry." 

And  this  perhaps  was  the  secret  of  the  girl's  unhappy 
temperament, — the  intensity  of  her  nature  seldom  found 
anything  to  match  its  fervor.  No  mere  human  love 
could  satisfy  her ;  and  with  such  natures  the  passions 
are  more  destructive  than  life-giving,  and  bring  more 
of  pain  than  pleasure. 

"  I  had  hoped  that  you  understood  me  by  this  time," 
said  Ophelia,  screening  her  eyes  from  the  lamp-light. 
"You  know  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  give  expression  to 
my  feelings, — unless  it  \%  forced  from  me." 

She  arose,  and,  leaning  an  arm  against  the  high,  old- 
fashioned  mantel,  rested  her  head  upon  it  and  looked 
down  into  the  fire.  Adele,  scanning  the  fair  profile, 
saw  a  tear  steal  down  her  cheek, — tears,  which  were  so 
unusual  with  Ophelia !  All  her  doubts  vanished. 

"The  shy,  timid  darling!"  she  exclaimed,  slipping 
her  arm  about  her  waist.  "  Actually  trembling  at  the 
thought  of  telling  her  old  friend  that  she  don't  like  her 
one  little  particle." 

"  No  !  no  !"  said  Ophelia,  laughing,  and  hiding  her 
face  upon  her  friend's  shoulder.  "You  know  that  I 
love  you,  Adele,  better  than  any  one  ;  so  well  that  I 
can  love  no  one  else,  you  fill  my  heart  so  entirely." 

"  Flatterer  !"  exclaimed  Adele,  pinching  her  cheek, 
and  looking  quite  radiant.  "  I  must  believe  in  you,  how 
ever,  for  my  own  peace  of  mind." 

They  had  already  related  all  that  had  occurred  to 


SURFACE  IMPRESSIONS.  33 

each  other  during  their  separation.  Ophelia,  the  pious 
innocent,  who  looked  sublimely  ignorant  of  this  world's 
unholy  ways,  had  no  end  of  thrilling  adventures  to  re 
late  ;  while  Adele,  the  unrighteous  publican,  was  con 
strained  to  confess  that  nothing  unusual  had  happened 
in  her  life ;  not  even  so  much  as  a  broken-hearted  lover 
throwing  himself  away — to  an  heiress — or  stabbing  him 
self — with  a  paper-knife — upon  her  account.  Indeed, 
she  reluctantly  made  the  mortifying  confession  that 
she  had  never  had  even  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a 
lover. 

"  Should  you  like  to  have  one?"  Ophelia  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  her  friend,  decidedly,  "I  should." 

"  You  wouldn't  like  it,"  returned  the  other,  shaking 
her  head  sagely.  "They  are  such  torments.  They 
never  want  you  to  have  any  friend  except  themselves, 
nor  go  any  place  with  any  one  else.  And  then  they 
look  into  your  eyes  and  make  you  feel  strangely, — u 
comfortable,  I  can  tell  you — especially  if  any  one  is  by, 
to  see  you  blush  and  look  like  a  fool." 

Adele  laughed  and  patted  her  friend's  back,  as  if 
she  had  been  a  pet  kitten, — "  I  meant  a  real  lover, 
dear,  whom  I  should  adore,  and  whom  I  should  want 
perpetually  by  my  side." 

Ophelia  shook  her  head  and  said  that  such  existed 
only  in  books ;  that  life  was  a  commonplace  affair, 
and  full  of  annoyances  ;  and  the  sooner  we  became 
reconciled  to  that  fact  the  better. 

•'  That  we  exist  at  all  is  a  profound  mystery  to  me," 
said  Adele.  "Sitting  here  alone,  I  sometimes  fancy  I 
can  catch  glimpses  of  my  future.  It  is  like  a  wondrous, 
ever-heaving  sea,  whose  breakers  gather  strength  and 
power  as  they  advance  to  dash  against  my  fragile  life 
boat.  I  look  for  a  tossed  and  troubled  voyage." 

"What  wild  thoughts  you  have,  Del!  To  me  the 
future  is  a  seaTed  book,"  said  Ophelia,  looking  at  her 
friend  admiringly. 

"  You  are  so  good,  Ophelia,  your  life  will  be  smooth 


34  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

enough,  no  doubt.  Satan  himself  could  not  misuse 
you.  How  they  all  loved  you  at  school ! — and  how  the 
teachers  petted  you  and  held  you  up  as  an  example  and  a 
prodigy  of  goodness,  until  it  is  a  wonder  that  we  didn't 
hate,  instead  of  love  you  !  And,  Ophelia,  for  all  you 
got  the  credit  of  being  so  much  the  better  student,  I 
studied  the  hardest.  Don't  you  know  I  did  ?  Oh,  yes, 
your  life  will  be  smooth  enough, — it  is  easy  to  see 
that." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  returned  Ophelia  carelessly.  "  I  can 
make  no  .pretensions  to  any  sort  of  knowledge  that  is 
not  arrived  at  by  a  safe  round  of  facts.  I  have  not  your 
poetic  wings  with  which  to  soar  aloft  into  cloud-land." 

"  Oh,  lean  fly  high  enough,  but  to  what  purpose?  My 
fancies,  founded  upon  nothing,  rear  their  insubstantial 
heads  skyward  and  terminate  in  nothing.  They  only 
delude  me  into  believing  in  them  for  the  time,  and  then 
repay  my  credulity  by  tumbling  about  my  head.  How 
I  hate  this  world  sometimes  !" 

"I  flatter  myself,"  said  Ophelia,  "  that  you  totally 
isolate  me  from  your  detested  'world;'  and  yet,  Adele, 
you  must  know  that  there  are  many  people  in  it  quite 
as  good,-  and  many  more  who  are  much  better  than  I." 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  Adele,  with  a  grimace.  "No 
one  has  ever  impressed  me  with  so  much  of  a  desire  to 
be  good.  But  that  is  only  that  there  might  be  no  miss 
ing  link  of  sympathy  between  us.  If  we  could  always 
be  together,  I  think  it  likely  that  I  might  become  mod 
erately  good  ;  or  at  any  rate,  a  little  less  bad." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  returned  Ophelia, 
rising  and  shaking  down  her  bright  wavy  hair,  "  as  you 
are  to  go  home  with  me  to-morrow.  Mamma  said  I 
was  not  to  come  back  without  you." 

An  eager  look  flashed  into  Adele's  countenance,  but 
faded  immediately.  "I  cannot  go,  I  fear,"  she  returned, 
sadly. 

"Oh,  but  you  must\  There  is  nothing  to  keep  you 
here,  and  there  is  much  to  take  you  home  with  me. 


SURFACE   IMPRESSIONS. 


35 


Only  think,  Adele,  a  whole  winter  of  evenings  like 
this!" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?  I  have  nothing 
to  wear,  and  no  time  to  get  anything  ready." 

"  Why?"  returned  Ophelia,  with  a  laugh.  "  Because 
I  knew  you  would  be  busy  all  the  time  I  was  here,  and 
I'd  have  no  sort  of  a  visit.  Besides,  mamma  said  I 
was  to  tell  you  to  wait  until  you  came  to  the  city  to  make 
any  alterations  in  your  wardrobe.  She  keeps  a  seam 
stress  employed  by  the  year,  and  just  now  there  is 
nothing  for  her  to  do,  which  annoys  ma  terribly." 

"How  lucky!"  exclaimed  Adele,  always  ready  to 
shirk  work.  "And  I  can  take  Fan's  new  suit  and  Ger 
tie's  hat, — pa  can  get  them  others, — and  I  have  a  nice 
cloak  and  two  new  merinos,  and  pa  must  give  me  a 
hundred  dollars, — I  won't  have  a  cent  less.  Will  that 
do,  Ophelia?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Ophelia,  inclined  to  drop  the 
subject.  But  the  thought  was  too  new  and  exciting  to 
Adele  to  be  disposed  of  so  hastily.  And  when  the 
wardrobe  was  exhausted,  there  were  yet  other  things  to 
be  discussed. 

"  And  I  shall  have  the  opportunity  of  judging  be 
tween  your  two  favorites,  Mr.  North  and  Hal  Ripley. 
I'll  not  like  either  of  them,  I  know  ;  and  you  don't  love 
either  of  them,  though  you  may  fancy  that  you  do." 

"  I  know  that  I  do  not,  but  I  shall  have  to  marry  one 
of  them  nevertheless.  I  don't  know  which  yet." 

"  Only  hear  with  what  reverence  sfie  speaks  of  mar 
riage  !"  exclaimed  Adele,  addressing  an  imaginary 
audience.  "Don't  you  know  which  you  like  the  best?" 

"  Not  yet,"  was  the  placid  reply. 

"I  suppose  love  is  entirely  out  of  the  question?" 
said  Adele. 

"  I  cannot  love,  Adele, — it  is  not  in  me." 

"You  have  never  been  loved, — that  is  all,"  said 
Adele. 

"  Never  been  loved  !"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  amazedly. 


3  6  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"  It  is  not  that  you  lack  the  capability  of  loving," 
said  Adele.  "  You  have  never  come  in  contact  with 
one  as  capable  of  the  grand  passion  as  yourself.  Why 
need  you  marry  at  all?" 

"Oh,  every  one  marries,"  returned  the  city  girl. 
"It  is  the  way  of  the  world,  and  my  good  parents 
would  never  be  satisfied  if  I  did  not.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  I  am  only  an  adopted  child,  Adele?" 

"  Yes,  you  told  me  at  school." 

"  My  real  parents,"  continued  Ophelia,  "were  poor 
but  cultivated.  My  father  was  an  artist.  He  was  a 
conscientious  artist,  devoted  to  his  profession,  and  so 
constituted  that  he  could  not,  if  he  would,  slur  his  work. 
And  so  he  spent  his  whole  life  upon  a  few  pictures  and 
died  in  poverty.  I  shall  receive  nothing  from  my 
adopted  parents,  because  the  property  is  entailed  and 
cannot  pass  out  of  the  family." 

"  Marriage,  then,  I  suppose,  is  your  only  chance  of 
life?"  Adele's  lip  curled  cynically. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  other,  with  a  sigh.  "It  is  my 
only  chance." 

"  And  is  the  world  so  scarce  of  men  that  you  are  of 
a  necessity  pinned  down  to  the  choice  between  two?" 

"All  the  men  of  the  world  are  not  at  my  com 
mand,  Adele.  My  parents  have  signified  their  ap 
proval  of  these  two, — or  at  least  mamma  has,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  ;  and  I  would  not  readily  be  for 
given  if  I  rejected  such  opportunities  for  providing  for 
myself." 

"  You  shall  marry  neither  of  them  if  I  can  help  it. 
Hal  Ripley  is  a  conceited  puppy, — if  he  is  a  banker's 
son  ;  and  Mr.  North,  if  he  has  a  heart  at  all,  it  is  as 
hard  as'the  gold  he  worships.  Despite  your  fine  de 
scriptions,  and  your  glossings  over,  you  could  not  keep 
the  truth  from  shining  through  your  varnish." 

"  Evidently  I  have  not  flattered  my  lovers,"  said 
Ophelia,  looking  slightly  piqued. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  need  not  marry  at  all !"  exclaimed 


SURFACE   IMPRESSIONS. 


37 


Adele.    "  How  happy  we  might  be  together  all  our  lives 
if  that  were  possible." 

Now,  John,  I  do  not  like  the  curl  of  your  lip,  nor 
that  skeptical  look.  Sir,  you  may  look  surprised  or 
scornful  or  bored  to  death,  if  you  please,  but  you  must 
•never  look  as  if  you  doubted  my -word.  I  require  that 
you  swallow  the  whole  of  this  story  as  truth — in  the  ab 
stract.  These  people  all  lived, — these  friendships  and 
loves  were  ;  and  if  my  analysis  of  them  is  not  correct, 
the  fault  is  in  me  and  not  in  the  facts. 

"  Oh,  milk  and  water,  ye  happy  mixtures  !"  said  the 
poet  when  all  of  his  youthful  attachments  had  "  sim 
mered  out."  Buttheunsoundness  was  in  him.  /have 
seen  friendships  that  had  grown  up  with  the  mental  and 
physical  being,  that  have  endured  through  the  storms 
of  an  adverse  life,  and  then  put  forth  their  fairest  blos 
soms  above  the  grave,  from  whence  "  no  love  messages 
are  ever  whispered  back."  Tell  me  not  "'tis  but  a 
name,"  and  all  that;  though  it  is  quite  likely,  John, 
when  we  have  shaken  hands  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
story,  and  gone  on  our  own  separate  ways,  that  you 
will  soon  have  forgotten  the  small  creature  who  led  you 
through  these  scenes — occasionally  mounting  the  ros 
trum  and  lecturing  down  from  sublime  altitudes  of  supe 
riority — to  your  own  high  edification  and  improvement, 
and  with  whom  you  will  have  parted  a  little  sadly  and 
a  little  gladly.  And  yet,  John,  for  all  that  I  shall  con 
tinue  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  friendship. 


38  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

•MARSHALING   THE   FORCES. 

BY  noon  the  next  day  we  find  the  old  hack  from 
Jonestown  standing  at  the  'front  gate,  and  the  young 
ladies  in  all  the  excitement  of  leave-taking.  Mr. 
Hughes,  being  asked  by  his  daughter  for  a  hundred 
dollars,  reluctantly  counted  out  fifty,  which  she  dashed 
upon  the  floor,  declaring  if  she  couldn't  have  all  she 
would  have  none,  and  made  as  if  she  was  taking  off  her 
things  to  stay  at  home, — whereupon  the  old  gentleman 
rose  to  seventy-five.  This  being  indignantly  spurned, 
he  finally  produced  the  required  sum,  with  the  remark 
that  she  might  make  the  most  of  it  and  save  some  to 
come  home  on,  as  it  was  all  she  would  get, — which  re 
mark  was  lost  on  the  dutiful  daughter,  who  was  engaged 
in  making  her  adieus.  The  scene  appeared  to  be  a  stale 
one,  as  no  one  seemed  to  take  note  of  it, — unless  it  was 
Herve,  who  smiled  somewhat  cynically. 

Mrs.  Hughes  exhibited  signs  of  whimpering  when 
her  daughter  kissed  her  good-by ;  but  upon  being  ex 
horted  by  the  exemplary  young  lady  after  her  usual  re 
spectful  manner,  "  For  heaven's  sake,  ma,  stop  that 
blubbering  !  I  hate  deceit,  and  you  know  you're  glad 
I'm  going,"  suddenly  desisted,  with  a  final  injunction 
to  mind  that  she  observed  Lent  and  went  to  no  parties 
during  the  forty  days. 

For  three  long  hours  they  were  thumped  about  in 
that  unwieldy  old  hack,  over  a  road  that  was  a  mere 
procession  of  cliffs,  hinged  together  with  ravines  and 
gashed  up  with  ruts  that  were  like  canals,  in  constant 
terror  of  being  upset.  The  first  mile  was  endured 
without  complaint.  Upon  the  second,  Adele  broke 


MARSHALING    THE  FORCES. 


39 


forth  rather  viciously,  "  I  wish  to  heaven  the  President 
and  his  cabinet  had  to  be  dragged  over  just  such  a  road 
as  this  every  day  !  It  might  stimulate  them  into  taking 
a  sort  of  interest  in  the  public  highways  of  the  country 
they  pretend  to  govern." 

Ophelia  replied  according  to  her  usual  custom  of  de 
fending  the  maligned, — that  the  government,  she  be 
lieved,  did  attend  to  the  most  important  roads. 

"  Most  important  indeed!"  exclaimed  Adele,  straight 
ening  herself  from  an  awkward  dash  against  the  hack 
door, — "  that  is,  the  roads  of  the  wealthiest  people. 
This  is  not  a  poor  country,  it  is  fertile  and  productive ; 
and  if  we  could  have  assistance  in  making  passable 
highways  to  connect  with  the  rest  of  the  globe,  we 
would,  in  time,  be  prosperous." 

Ophelia 'yawned.  Roads  were  a  subject  of  small 
interest  to  her.  It  is  true  she  would  have  been  glad  had 
this  one  been  a  little  less  jagged ;  otherwise  her  mind 
was  at  rest  upon  that  head. 

"Here  we  are!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  as  they  drew 
up  in  front  of  the  primitive  station  of  Jonestown.  And, 
seemingly  in  reply  to  this  announcement,  the  grocer, 
the  bar-keeper,  the  postmaster,  six  dogs,  and  several 
other  nondescripts,  made  their  appearance  upon  the 
scene. 

Ophelia  gave  directions  about  their  baggage,  totally 
oblivious  of  the  numerous  audience,  and  then  led  the 
way  into  the  waiting-room,  where  several  persons  were 
sitting. 

Among  these  were  two  distinguished  above  their 
companions  for  the  thoroughly  metropolitan  air  of  their 
vesture  and  bearing :  an  elderly  gentleman,  of  ruddy, 
benevolent  countenance,  silvery  hair,  and  somewhat 
inclined  to  corpulence,  who  read  his  paper  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  deep  interest,  and  a  lady  but  little  younger, 
whose  finely-cut  features,  independent,  unostentatious 
dress,  and  imperious  bearing,  proclaimed  her  a 
thorough-bred  woman  of  society ;  not  the  gay  butterfly 


40  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

who  cares  only  to  float  upon  the  wave  of  popularity 
and  bask  in  the  world's  approving  smiles,  but  the 
shrewd,  keen  diplomat,  who  uses  society  for  purposes 
of  triumph  and  rule. 

As  the  impulsive  country  girl  looked  into  the  clear 
icy  eyes,  which  coldly  inspected  her  through  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles,  she  felt  strongly  impelled  to  run 
away  and  get  beyond  their  reach.  She  felt  sure  that 
those  dreadful  eyes  probed  the  dark  spots  of  her  charac 
ter,  and  computed  the  full  cost  of  her  cheap  outfit  as 
well,  and  disapproved  of  the  whole  lot. 

Ophelia  introduced  her  friend — whose  nonchalant  air 
seemed  to  indicate  entire  indifference  to  the  impres 
sions  she  made — with  great  pride. 

"And  this  is  your  great  friend,  Adele,  of  whom  you 
have  told  us  so  much.  Let  me  see  if  she  is  the  won 
derful  creature  you  have  represented  her." 

The  old  gentleman  took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped 
them  with  his  handkerchief,  then  replaced  them,  and 
looked  steadily  and  sharply  at  the  stranger.  Adele 
was  not  at  all  disconcerted  at  this  frank,  open  scrutiny, 
and  laughed  heartily  at  his  dubious  shake  of  the  head 
and  pretended  perplexity  as  to  what  strange  sort  of  a 
creature  she  might  be. 

Presently  the  iron  horse,  with  a  screech,  clattered  in, 
.and  when  Mr.  Bergeshad  hustled  his  little  flock  on  board, 
scampered  away  with  its  train  of  coaches  at  its  heels. 
A  few  hours  afterward  they  were  mounting  the  steps  of 
a  three-story,  slate-colored  brick  upon  one  of  the  most 
"  genteel"  squares  in  the  city.  There  was  a  little  square 
yard  in  front,  with  three  stunted  pine-trees  in  it.  All 
the  romance  was  banished  to  the  rear,  where  was  a  pretty 
arbor,  veiled  with  a  tangled  net-work  of  slender  vines, 
some  rustic  seats,  a  fountain,  now  frozen,  and  some 
tall  trees  overshadowing  the  whole. 

Ophelia  ran  up  the  steps,  opened  the  door,  and, 
taking  a  step  into  the  hall,  ran  against  a  young  gentle 
man  who  was  just  coming  out. 


MARSHALING    THE  FORCES.  4I 

"Halloo! — is  it  you,  Ophelia?  I've  been  waiting 
about  an  hour,  and  had  at  last  concluded  to  go  down 
to  the  depot  to  look  for  you." 

He  placed  his  fingers  under  her  chin,  and  was  evi 
dently  on  the  point  of  kissing  her  when  the  sight  of 
Adele  diverted  his  attention.  The  introduction  which 
followed  proclaimed  the  young  gentleman  to  be  "my 
cousin,  Mr.  Ripley." 

"Aha!  Mr.  Ripley,"  was  Adele's  mental  ejacula 
tion.  "  I  was  not  mistaken,  I  see  ;  a  sleek  incarnation 
of  selfishness,  glossed  over  with"  the  lustre  of  wealth  and 
a  pleasing  address ;  acute  where  his  own  interests  are 
concerned,  otherwise  obtuse." 

They  all  went  into  the  sitting-room,  and  Mr.  Ripley 
depositing  himself  into  the  easiest  chair  within  reach, 
drew  Ophelia  down  beside  him,  and  began  an  animated 
relation  of  all  the  events,  of  any  interest  to  himself, 
that  had  occurred  during  her  absence.  Evidently  he 
regarded  Ophelia  as  his  own  individual  property.  As 
for  Adele,  he  treated  her  as  furniture ;  and  after  the 
first  keen  glance,  his  eye  passed  over  her  as  a  totally 
uninteresting  object. 

He  was  a  young  gentleman  of  moderate  height  and 
proportions,  with  dark,  indolent  eyes,  a  handsome  set 
of  teeth,  lips  well  turned  but  pulpy,  and  a  complexion 
that  always  had  a  flushed  look. 

"Where  is  Walter?"  Ophelia  inquired,  when  Mr. 
Ripley  had  come  to  a  pause  in  his  narration. 

"  Walt  ?  Oh,  he's  back  in  the  rear  somewhere,  work 
ing  his  'sums.'  Stay  where  you  are;  he'll  be  in 
presently." 

But  Ophelia  did  not  wish  to  stay  where  she  was. 
She  wanted  to  find  Walter ;  and  notwithstanding  his 
efforts  to  detain  her,  left  her  cousin  for  that  purpose, 
which  so  incensed  the  young  gentleman  that  he  bade 
the  others  good-evening  immediately  and  went  sullenly 
into  the  street,  banging  the  hall  door  after  him. 

Ophelia  was  not  long  in  finding  the  object  of  her 


42  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

search, — a  boy  of  ten, — who  was  perched  upon  a  table, 
with  the  cook  and  her  aids  clattering  their  dishes  about 
him,  figuring  away  at  the  "  sums"  with  an  awful  frown 
upon  his  dimpled  countenance.  Walter  was  a  grega 
rious  lad,  and  opposed  to  solitude. 

"  Such  a  blamed  old  sum  as  that !  I  sha'n't  bother 
over  it  any  longer  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  and  his  slate  took 
a  hasty  excursion  across  the  room  and  landed  in  the 
slop-tub. 

"Why,  Walt !  what's  the  matter?" 

His  face  changed  on  the  instant.  "Oh,  it's  sister, 
and  they've  all  come  home  !"  he  roared.  And  scram 
bling  off  the  table,  he  ran  and  kissed  her  enthusiastically. 

"  What  was  that  you  were  throwing  across  the  room, 
Walt?" 

The  young  gentleman  hung  his  head.  "  Well,  the 
old  sum  wouldri: ' t  come  out  right,  all  I  could  do." 

"There  could  be  but  one  reason  for  that,"  said 
Ophelia.  "  It  was  not  worked  right." 

"  Didn't  I  subtract  the  subtrahend  from  the  minuend 
and  divide  the  remainder  by  seven,  and  was  that  the 
answer?"  he  exclaimed,  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
propounded  a  "clincher." 

"  Eliza  must  wash  the  slate,  and  we'll  try  it  over  by- 
and-by,"  said  his  sister,  and  the  two  went  back  to 
the  sitting-room  together. 

This  was  the  sole  heir  of  the  Berges  "house  and 
name." 

It  may  be,  John,  that  you  think  this  somewhat 
tedious.  But  have  patience.  First  chapters,  being 
introductory  and  descriptive,  must  of  a  necessity  be 
tedious.  They  are  but  the  prefatory  marshaling  of  the 
forces.  It  is  true,  in  some  books  the  grand,  crashing 
overture  outrivals  all  that  which  follows ;  but  for  my 
part,  I  like  better  to  grow  upon  your  thoughts  and 
affections  by  degrees.  Impressions  formed  in  that 
way  are  more  lasting. 


THE   "FASCINATING   SCOUNDREL." 


43 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  "FASCINATING  SCOUNDREL." 

THE  wind  was  whistling  distractedly  up  and  down 
the  street,  and  some  spiteful  little  snow  was  spitting  at 
everybody;  and  melting  on  them  and  chilling  them  to 
the  bone.  But  the  fires  blazed  comfortably  within, 
and  the  lights  beamed  with  unusual  complacence  upon 
the  two  young  ladies,  who  were  practicing  an  oratorio, 
and  laughing  irreverently  between  the  snatches. 

"  Mr.  North,"  announced  the  porter,  and  the  music 
and  laughter  suddenly  ceased. 

The  gentleman  who  entered  was  rather  elderly  and 
rather  "fine-looking":  large-framed,  without  any 
superfluity  of  flesh,  with  a  heavy  white  forehead,  a 
dense,  deep-set,  iron-gray  eye,  and  a  flowing  beard. 
A  slight  smile  disturbed  the  settled  gravity  of  his 
countenance  as  Ophelia  arose,  with  a  look  of  cordial 
welcome,  to  receive  him. 

His  conversational  powers  were  not  brilliant.  He 
made  the  conventional  inquiries  in  regard  to  her 
health  and-her  visit.  After  that  he  spoke  on  general 
and  national  topics.  His  remarks  were  addressed 
conjointly  to  the  two  young  ladies,  though  Adele  did 
not  seem  to  consider  it  necessary  to  conceal  her  lack 
of  interest  in  them.  Ophelia  exerted  herself  laboriously 
to  ward  off  the  dead  silence  which  hovered  threaten 
ingly  over  the  group,  and  was  evidently  greatly  relieved 
when  "Mr.  Waltman"  was  announced. 

"  Sid  Waltman  ?  Why,  I  thought  he  was  in  Europe  !" 
exclaimed  Mr.  North,  as  a  tall,  swarthy,  distinguished- 
looking  gentleman  entered  the  room. 

"So  I  was,"  returned  that  gentleman;   "but  find- 


44  UNDER   THE  SURFACE. 

ing  it  inconvenient  to  remain, — from  strictly  private 
reasons, — I  returned  some  two  or  three  days  ago." 

Having  acknowledged  his  introduction  to  Miss 
Hughes  by  a  profound  bow,  he  continued:  "They  tell 
me,  Miss  Ophelia,  that  you  have  been  rusticating  in 
that  howling  wilderness  which  surrounds  the  thriving 
metropolis  of  Jonestown.  There  yet  lingers  in  my 
mind  some  vague  reminiscences  of  a  youthful  pilgrim 
age  to  those  sacred  regions.  I  suppose  the  natives 
have  not  yet  succeeded  in  exterminating  the  bears  and 
wolves  from  their  interesting  country?" 

"Bears  and  wolves,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Ophelia, 
with  an  uneasy  glance  at  her  friend. 

"Oh,  were  they  not  bears  and  wolves?  It  is  wild 
cats  then,  I  presume,  from  which  the  good  people  live 
in  the  utmost  terror  of  their  lives." 

"  I  heard  of  no  wild-cats  there,"  said  Ophelia. 

"  Perhaps  my  treacherous  memory  fails  me,  and  it 
is  only  'coons  and  'possums  which  infest  those  parts. 
It  is  something  ravenous,  I  remember." 

"Take  care  how  you  revile  Jonestown,"  said  Mr. 
North  ;  "  Miss  Hughes  tells  me  she  is  from  that  place." 

"  From  the  hills  back  of  Jonestown,"  corrected  Miss 
Hughes. 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Waltman,  with  affected 
astonishment.  "I  should  never  have  taken  you  for  a 
country  girl." 

"I  prefer  to  date  from  the  hills,"  returned  Adele, 
with  the  utmost  composure,  "which  are  natural  forma 
tions,  whereas  Jonestown  is  a  deformity  and  a  disgrace 
to  the  country." 

"  I  perceive  you  are  a  lady  of  taste  and  judgment," 
said  Mr.  Waltman,  and  forthwith  transferred  his  atten 
tions  to  Miss  Hughes,  with  the  laudable  intention  of 
amusing  himself,  whatever  might  be  the  consequences. 

I  wish  I  could  present  this  character  as  forcibly  to 
your  mind  as  it  exists  in  mine.  But  you  must  have  seen 
him  many  times,  and  under  various  phases,  to  enable 


THE  "FASCINATING   SCOUNDREL." 


45 


you  to  comprehend  truly  the  peculiar  force  and  strength 
of  his  mingled  good  and  bad  qualities.  Hovveyer,  I  can 
sketch  you  a  simple  portrait,  and  hereafter  you  may  read 
from  the  record  of  his  actions  and  judge  for.  yourself. 

As  I  have  said,  he  was  tall  and  dark.  A  stealthy 
black  eye  (yes,  stealthy  is  the  word),  which  seldom 
looked  at  you  openly,  but  glanced  covertly  through 
long  black  fringes  which  swept  a  full  olive  cheek ;  an 
elegant  nose  with  slender  nostrils,  a  full,  voluptuous 
mouth  surmounted  by  a  silken  moustache  ;  a  jaw  a  trifle 
heavy  but  still  graceful  and  rounded,  with  a  firm,  deci 
sive  chin  ;  a  handsome  head,  whose  black  and  slightly 
waving  locks  were  brushed  low  upon  the  forehead  and 
swept  back  from  the  temples,  and  a  manner  that,  for 
perfect  composure,  was  a  triumph  of  art.  With  this 
striking  and  seductive  physique  and  smooth,  courtier- 
like  address,  is  it  to  be  wondered  that  Sidney  Waltman 
obtained  an  easy  entree  into  any  circle  ? 

I  do  not  know  what  these  two  young  people  talked 
about.  The  conversation  must  have  been  a  peculiar  one, 
as  both  persons  were  very  dissimilar  from  the  generality 
of  young  people.  Adele,  I  remember,  seemed  unusu 
ally  indifferent  as  to  whether  she  pleased  or  displeased  ; 
and  Mr.  Waltman,  from  the  occasional  flash  of  his  black 
eyes,  I  judged  to  have  been  slightly  piqued.  He  had 
not  found  the  "  country  girl"  as  amusing  as  he  had  an 
ticipated.  At  any  rate,  both  turned  readily  at  the  sound 
of  the  piano,  and  listened  throughout  Ophelia's  playing 
with  profound  attention. 

Ophelia  was  a  good  musician.  There  was  that  in  the 
first  note  she  struck  which  secured  the  attention.  Her 
touch  was  deliberate  and  decided.  No  hurrying,  no 
hesitancy;  nothing  to  interrupt  the  smooth  flow  of  rip 
pling  harmony ;  now  rumbling  along  the  bass,  now 
crashing  among  the  strong  middle  notes  and  again  glid 
ing  away  amid  mazy  intervolutions,  to  the  extremes  of 
the  scales,  the  supple  fingers  seemed  gifted  with  the 
spirit  of  heaven-enchanted  harmony. 


46  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"  Music,"  it  is  said,  "  is  an  intellectual  or  a  sensual 
pleasure  according  to  the  temperament  of  him  who 
hears  it."  Sidney  Waltman  was  a  sensualist  of  the  first 
water.  He  adored  music, — thrilling,  impassioned  music, 
such  as  pattered  from  beneath  Ophelia's  fingers.  His 
black  eyes  widened  and  expanded  with  quickened  emo 
tion.  To  him  it  was  a  drunken  revel,  which  extin 
guished  all  power  of  thought,  and  lifted  him  into  an 
elysium  of  dreams.  When  the  stream  of  harmony  had 
ceased  to  flow,  and  while  Mr.  North  complimented  the 
performer  upon  her  proficiency,  Sidney  Waltman  turned 
to  Adele  with  the  petulant  exclamation,  "  I  wish  to 
heaven  there  was  no  such  thing  upon  this  earth  as 
music  !" 

"Why?"  inquired  Adele  in  some  surprise. 

"  Because  it  creates  a  hunger  which  it  cannot  satisfy," 
he  replied.  "  It  is  an  empty  mockery,  a  delusion. 
Who  can  grasp  its  beauty  so  as  to  satisfy  his  soul  ?  It 
is  a  satire  on  the  hollow  pleasures  and  fuming  vanities 
of  this  earth.  Music  makes  me  unhappy,  but  I  have  a 
morbid  passion  for  being  made  unhappy.  Now,  Miss 
Hughes,  I  know  you  sing,  and  I  will  take  no  excuse." 

"  I  have  made  none  as  yet,"  said  Adele,  but  without 
moving. 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Waltman,"  said  Ophelia,  "only 
you  cannot  imagine  how  well  Adele  sings  until  you 
have  heard." 

"  My  imagination  is  not  excessively  strong,"  returned 
Mr.  Waltman,  "  and  I  hope  Miss  Hughes  will  have 
mercy  on  my  feeble  constitution,  and  save  me  from  the 
endeavor  to  enforce  upon  my  mind  what  her  singing 
may  be  like." 

Miss  Hughes  made  no  reply  to  this  grandiose  speech, 
further  than  to  take  up  the  guitar  and  begin  tuning  it. 
She  looked  serious,  almost  solemn,  and  every  one 
listened  in  silent  expectancy  for  the  coming  burst  of 
melody.  It  came,  and  every  one  started  in  astonish 
ment  as  the  unmistakable  nasal  twang  of  the  African 


THE  "FASCINATING   SCOUNDREL." 


47 


voice  fell  upon  their  fastidious  ears  in  that  lugubrious 
strain, — 

"All  de  darkeys  hab  cleared  out,  and  gone  to  rest, 

And  e'b'ry  ting  am  still, 
Except  de  pulberations  ob  dis  breast 

Dat  am  clippin,  clappin,  like  a  mill,"  etc. 

The  imitation  could  not  have  been  better.  Mr. 
North  actually  laughed,  a  thing  he  had  not  done  for 
years,  and  which  I  think  he  deeply  regretted  the  mo 
ment  after.  As  for  Ophelia,  she  was  convulsed,  but 
Sidney  Waltman  sat  as  imperturbable  as  a  statue.  He 
did  not  ask  her  to  sing  again,  and  soon  took  his  depart 
ure,  followed  by  Mr.  North.  He  declined  that  gentle 
man's  invitation  to  go  "his way,"  said  "he  had  to  go 
up-town,"  so  they  parted  at  the  gate.  He  went  "up 
town,"  but  did  not  enter  a  single  place  until  he  reached 
his  boarding-house  about  two  hours  later. 

It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  Sid  to  walk  the  streets 
until  the  night  was  far  spent,  without  any  apparent  ob 
ject  in  view. 

Though  he  loved  his  pleasure  so  well,  he  was  ambi 
tious  and  loved  power  better.  He  was  a  lawyer,  an 
embryo  politician,  and  a  hard  student.  Rambling  thus 
solitarily  at  night,  he  felt  his  inner  vision  to  be  clearer 
and  his  thoughts  less  shackled  by  outward  things. 

But  to-night  his  mind  rejected  all  serious  thought. 
He  was  possessed  by  a  fantasy.  "  I  have  never  before 
seen  such  a  woman,"  was  his  thought.  "She  moves 
me  out  of  myself.  She  takes  hold  of  my  fancy  irresist 
ibly  and  despite  all  resistance." 

Hitherto  he  had  entertained  himself  with  taking  cap 
tive  the  hearts  of  vain  and  silly  women,  simply  as  a 
pleasurable  exercise  of  power.  But  this  one  :  what  an 
eye  !  it  was  like  a  detective,  and  seemed  to  penetrate 
into  the  innermost  recesses  of  his  soul,  and  to  exhume 
from  the  rubbish  of  selfish  desires  and  ambitions  the  few 
honest,  worthy  qualities  he  possessed.  In  the  light 


48  UNDER   THE  SURFACE. 

which  she  cast  upon  his  life,  its  past  aims  seemed  un 
worthy.  To-night  he  felt  his  first  earnest  desire  for 
nobility  of  soul. 

And  what  a  mouth !  he  could  not  read  the  subtle 
tracery  of  its  lines  and  curves.  There  was  tenderness, 
he  was  sure,  but  there  was  also  mockery.  He  felt 
that  she  could  lavish  love  and  scorn  upon  the  same  ob 
ject.  Half  divinity,  half  elf, — he  adored  this  compound 
of  good  and  evil  that  answered  to  his  own  nature. 
There  were  few  things  too  high  for  her  comprehension, 
and  few  too  fearful  for  her  undertaking. 

"  She  is  poor,  of  course,"  he  reflected,  "  or  she  would 
be  bedecked  with  jewels;  it  is  the  way  of  the  women. 
Oh,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of,  Sid.  She  would  be  a 
clog,  though  a  splendid  one.  She  would  absorb  at  least 
half  your  mind,  and  more  than  half  your  income.  You 
must  go  there  no  more." 

And  when  he  had  formed  that  resolution  he  was  dis 
pleased  with  it.  "  Only  a  coward  flies  at  mere  sight 
of  the  enemy.  The  strong  and  courageous  remain  and 
fight  out  the  battle,  though  there  are  odds  against 
him.  Wait  until  you  see  her  fairly  in  the  whirlpool  of 
fashionable  life.  Mrs.  Berges  will  train  her.  See 
her  in  hot  pursuit  of  a  fortune, — old  Major  Boynton 
for  instance.  Mrs.  Berges  always  had  a  hankering 
after  his  bank  account.  She  would  have  secured  it  for 
Ophelia,  only  Ophelia  objected  to  the  immense  en 
cumbrance, — that  is  the  major;  and,  besides,  she  was 
not  flashy  enough  to  suit  his  tastes.  But  to  this  superb 
piece  of  flesh — about  the  only  entirely  natural  forma 
tion  to  be  found  in  the  city— he  will  succumb  instanter, 
and  be  ready  to  deliver  up  the  keys  of  his  chest  with 
out  demur.  Let  him  buy  her  with  his  gold,  if  he  can ; 
but,  by  heavens  !  she  shall  feel  somewhat  of  my  power 
first.  She  has  no  fear  of  it.  She  looks  at  me  with  a 
cool  impudence  that  takes  half  the  strength  out  of  me. 
I  actually  feel  a  diminution  of  power  in  her  presence. 
I  have  found  my  equal  at  last.  Shall  I  turn  and  fly 


THE  "FASCINATING   SCOUNDREL." 


49 


like  a  coward  ?  Shall  I  rest  content  with  easy  victories 
over  my  inferiors?" 

That  question  was  its  own  answer.  Placing  it  in 
that  light  created  a  necessity  for  disproving  it.  Sid's 
mind  worked  to-night  under  a  high  pressure  of  excite 
ment.  Among  all  his  strong  qualities  was  one  stronger 
than  all — the  power  of  passion  ;  such  as,  if  rightly 
directed,  would  purify,  strengthen,  and  elevate  his 
nature ;  if  wrongly  directed,  would  tend  to  debase,  to 
weaken,  and  to  desolate.  The  fire  which  was  to  refine 
and  purify  the  dross,  or  to  utterly  consume  the  gold  of 
his  nature,  had  sprung  into  sudden  flame. 

"  How  do  you  like  our  visitors?"  inquired  Ophelia, 
as  they  sat  alone  in  their  chamber.  "Do  not  you 
think  Mr.  Waltman  a  fascinating  gentleman?" 

"A  fascinating  scoundrel!"  exclaimed  Adele,  with 
greater  emphasis  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  justify. 

"  He  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  notorious  heart- 
breaker,"  continued  Ophelia. 

"  A  fig  for  the  heart  that  he  could  break,"  said  Del, 
scornfully. 

"And  Mr.  North?" 

"  Mr.  North  possesses  about  as  much  capability  of 
feeling  as  Aaron's  golden  calf." 

"And  yet,"  said  Ophelia,  "I  have  seen  him  display 
great  kindness  toward  the  weak  and  suffering." 

"Policy! — he  knew  the  effect  it  would  have  on 
you." 

"  No  ;  but  I  have  heard  of  other  instances  than  those 
which  came  under  my  own  observation." 

"  Mere  physical  sympathy  then.  Brutes  are  capable 
of  such  goodness  as  that.  Mr.  North  is  as  near  a  mere 
machine  as  any  human  being  I  have  yet  come  across. 
There  is  nothing  in  him  but  the  power  of  driving  ahead 
at  his  own  individual  work.  His  conversations  remind 
me  of  the  songs  of  the  bard  of  Shiraz,  in  which  we 
are  told  '  the  same  beautiful  thought  occurs  again  and 
again  in  every  possible  variety  of  phrase.'  I  admire 


50  UNDER   THE  SURFACE. 

simplicity  I  own,  but  not  when  it  borders  so  closely 
upon  dullness.  Your  greatest  fault,  Ophelia,  is  that 
you  constantly  underrate  yourself,  and  give  undue 
importance  to  others." 

"  And  Ripley  ?  you  have  not  yet  told  me  your  opinion 
of  Hal." 

"  Pardon  me;  but  Mr.  Ripley  is  shallow — very." 

"  He  seems  to  have  a  sufficiency  of  feeling  at  least." 
Ophelia  was  unlacing  her  fancy  kid  boots,  and  did  not 
look  up  as  she  made  these  inquiries. 

"  Violent,  perhaps,"  returned  the  oracle ;  "  but  shal 
low  nevertheless  !" 

You  begin  to  open  your  eyes,  I  see,  John ;  you  are 
waking  up ;  and  to  open  your  mouth,  too, — to  com 
plain,  I  suppose.  You  do  not  think  it  fair  that  all  heroes 
and  heroines  must  needs  be  something  extraordinary, 
and  that  there  is  no  place  in  the  pages  of  poesy  and 
romance  for  commonplace  people. 

My  dear  John,  are  you  commonplace?  No,  you 
cannot  say  that  you  are,  at  least  to  yourself  you  are 
not,  nor  to  me,  John.  I  confess  that  to  me  you  are  a 
very  interesting,  poetic  personage,  with  many  im 
penetrable  cells  in  your  heart,  and  many  wonderful 
nooks  in  your  brain.  And  so  there  are  not  many  peo 
ple  in  this  world  who  are  not  mysterious  to  themselves, 
and  wonderful  to  some  other  person.  And  where 
should  I  go  to  find  a  commonplace  character  ? 


THE    CHRYSALIS  DEVELOPS.  51 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   CHRYSALIS   DEVELOPS. 

"INVITATIONS  to  Mrs.  Buford's."  Ophelia  carelessly 
tossed  the  three  large,  imposing  documents,  which  the 
porter  had -just  handed  her,  into  the  card -basket  with 
out  looking  at  them. 

Adele  took  up  the  one  addressed  to  herself  with  a 
feeling  akin  to  awe.  It  was  incased  in  two  large,  square 
envelopes,  the  inner  one  of  a  pale  fawn  color,  and 
faintly  odorous  of  musk.  There  were  large  initials  on 
both  envelope  and  invitation.  A  vista  of  elegant  draw 
ing-rooms,  of  costly  toilettes,  and  sumptuous  viands,  to 
which  this  was  the  pass-word,  opened  before  her  mind. 

"What  shall  you  wear?"  inquired  Adele,  tossing  it 
back  in  the  basket. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Ophelia,  suppressing 
a  yawn  ;  "  some  of  my  old  dresses,  I  suppose." 

"You  will  get  a  new  dress  of  course,"  said  Mrs. 
Berges,  who  was  employed  in  making  some  alterations 
in  an  old  dress, — that  is,  one  that  had  been  worn  about 
half  a  dozen  times.  "  Mrs.  Buford  will  tolerate  noth 
ing  shabby.  She  gets  up  her  parties  at  great  expense 
to  herself,  and  she  expects  her  guests  to  employ  the 
same  rule  in  regard  to  their  attire.  She  would  scarcely 
forgive  an  old  or  untidy  dress,  if  anything  better  were 
possible." 

"7  shall  have  to  get  a  new  dress,  of  course,"  said 
Del,  "if  I  go." 

"If  you  go!  Of  course  you'll  go,  so  we  will  discuss 
the  dress.  A  green  or  canary-colored  tarlatan  with 
pretty  trimmings  would  do.  The  gentlemen  are  said  to, 
be  partial  to  tarlatan  angels,  they  cost  so  little." 


52  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

"It  is  a  popular  fallacy,"  said  Mrs.  Berges,  "to 
suppose  that  the  purchase  of  anything  so  flimsy  and 
unsubstantial  as  tarlatan,  however  cheap,  could  be 
econoipy.  One  wearing  would  finish  it,  of  course.  If 
money  is  a  consideration,  Miss  Hughes,  you  had  better 
get  something  that  can  be  worn  on  the  street  also ;  an 
inexpensive  silk,  for  instance." 

Mrs.  Berges  was  a  trained  veteran  in  the  matter  of 
toilette,  and  no  one  ever  thought  of  amending  her  pro 
positions.  She  knew  just  how  cheap  a  dress  could  pass 
muster  at  such  a^>lace,  and  just  where  the  bounds  of 
fashion  might  be  overstepped  with  advantage.  She 
knew,  too,  that  Adele,  with  her  singular  beauty,  would 
lose  nothing,  but  rather  gain,  by  a  simple  toilette,  which 
would  leave  her  real  loveliness  so  apparent.  And  so  the 
"inexpensive  silk"  was  purchased  and  stylishly  made; 
and  when  Adele  swept  into  the  room  with  its  soft, 
pearl-gray  folds  falling  gracefully  about  her  tall,  willowy 
form,  there  were  none  present  who  were  not  struck 
with  her  appearance. 

There  was  something  unusual  in  her  strange,  wild 
beauty.  She  wore  no  jewels,  no  ornaments,  except  the 
blush-rose  in  her  dark  hair,  and  narrow  bands  of  pink 
velvet  on  her  neck  and  wrists.  She  carried  herself 
proudly  erect,  and  the  flame  in  her  cheeks  and  the  fire 
in  her  eyes  drew  more  than  one  steady,  scrutinizing 
gaze.  Adele  knew  that  she  was  handsome,  and  she 
knew  the  power  of  such  beauty  as  hers  over  men.  She 
knew,  too,  that  she  was  no  dolt,  and  could  sustain  and 
strengthen  the  impression  which  her  beauty  created,  by 
her  conversation.  Besides,  Adele  possessed  a  certain 
constitutional  composure  which  seldom,  perhaps  never, 
deserted  her.  Hence  she  looked  over  the  sparkling 
sea  of  silks  and  laces  and  gauzy  mists,  whose  undulat 
ing  waves  upbore  hundreds  of  fair,  angelic  faces,  un 
moved  and  calm.  To  her  it  all  seemed  like  a  glittering 
dream. 

They  were  late, — only  a  few  coming  after,  among 


THE    CHRYSALIS  DEVELOPS. 


53 


whom  was  Mr.  Ripley,  the  well-known  banker's  son. 
He  paid  his  compliments  to  the  host  and  hostess,  and 
then  began  to  look  about  him  as  if  in  quest  of  some  one. 
He  received  plenty  of  smiles,  bows,  and  pretty  speeches 
right  and  left ;  but  his  eye  roved  restlessly  over  the 
crowd  until  its  wandering  glance  fell  upon  the  Berges 
party.  He  came  forward  immediately,  and,  with  a 
comprehensive  bow  to  the  whole  group,  sat  down  by 
Ophelia,  exhibiting  no  further  consciousness  of  Adele's 
presence. 

"  What  have  you  been  sulking  about,  that  you  have 
not  been  up?"  inquired  Ophelia,  with  a  slight  smile. 

"I  have  been  busy,"  said  Mr.  Ripley,  evasively. 

"Busy?"  and  Ophelia  laughed, — a  soft,  derisive 
laugh.  "Mr.  North  and  Sid  Waltman  called  Tuesday 
evening.  You  should  have  been  there  to  hear  Adele 
sing  them  a  comic  song." 

"  North,  I  suppose,  was  inexpressibly  shocked?" 

"  No,  he  seemed  amused, — he  actually  laughed." 

"  Indeed  !  I  had  not  thought  him  capable  of  it.  He 
has  less  sense  of  humor  about  him  than  any  human 
being  I  ever  saw.  Sid,  I  suppose,  affected  to  be  highly 
amused  ?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Waltman  looked  unusually  serious, — dull, 
in  fact." 

At  this  juncture  Ophelia  looked  up  and  perceived  the 
object  of  her  last  remark  but  a  few  feet  from  her.  He 
promenaded  leisurely  past,  with  a  bejeweled  little 
beauty  upon  his  arm,  without  even  a  glance  toward 
them. 

"  I  wish  you  would  dance,  Ophelia,"  said  Ripley,  re 
gretfully.  "  There  is  no  pleasure  at  a  party  unless  you 
dance.  Do  you  dance,  Miss  Hughes?" 

"I  do,"  briefly  responded  Miss  Hughes. 

"  The  round  dances  ?" 

"Yes,  even  the  round  dances,"  was  the  withering 
rejoinder. 

"Very  well,"  returned  Mr.  Ripley,  not  in  the  least 


54 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


disconcerted,   "we'll  have  a  schottische  or  mazourka 
after  awhile." 

"Will  we,  indeed?"  was  Miss  Hughes's  mental  re 
sponse  ;  "we'll  see  whether  we  will  or  not.  I'd  sit  here 
•  all  night  first."  • 

Two  gentlemen  coming  up  just  then  were  presented 
to  Miss  Hughes,  and  immediately  set  up  a  chorus  of  en 
treaties  that  she  would  dance.  Miss  Hughes  declined  for 
the  present,  but  encouraged  them  to  hope  that  she  might 
be  prevailed  upon  after  awhile ;  and  so  beguiled  them 
with  her  beauty,  and  her  nimble  tongue,  that  the  young 
exquisites  tarried  indefinitely.  Later  in  the  evening, 
she  discovered  Mr.  Waltman  at  her  elbow.  How  long 
he  had  been  there  listening  to  her  flighty  chat  with 
Messrs.  Hart  and  Smith  she  neither  knew  nor  cared. 

"I  have  come  for  you,"  he  said.  "  Can  you  listen 
to  that  waltz,  and  sit  here  talking  to  these  two  dum 
mies?  Come  on,  they've  had  you  long  enough." 

His  familiar,  free  and  easy  manner  was  too  natural 
and  boyish  to  be  offensive,  and  Adele  felt  a  strong  de 
sire  to  go  with  him. 

"  Go,  if  you  wish,"  said  Ophelia,  seeing  her  hesitate. 
"  You  have  been  sitting  here  all  evening,  and  I  know 
you  must  be  tired.  These  rejected  individuals  shall 
not  complain." 

The  "rejected,"  who  had  fallen  back  at  Sid's  first 
appearance,  declared  themselves  resigned.  Ophelia 
took  Mr.  North's  arm  for  a  promenade,  and  Adele 
accompanied  Mr.  Waltman  to  the  ball-room. 

It  was  impossible  that  Adele  should  appear  in  a  ball 
room  without  creating  a  sensation.  Its  voluptuous,  un- 
real  atmosphere  suited  her.  She  delighted  in  gay  scenes, 
in  dancing  and  excitement.  Here  was  a  field  in  which 
she  could  win  the  admiration  and  the  exciting  power 
she  coveted.  She  entered  upon  it  with  the  regal  look 
and  bearing  of  a  crowned  queen. 

"Who  is  she?"  "Who  is  she?"  made  the  circuit  of 
the  room  till  it  reached  Sid's  "  bejeweled  little  beauty." 


THE    CHRYSALIS  DEVELOPS. 


55 


"Who?"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to 
be  overheard  by  all  around  her.  "  Why,  just  nobody, — 
from  the  hills  back  of  Jonestown, — the  very  fag-end  of 
the  world." 

Adele,  like  most  devotees  of  the  dance,  disdained 
the  cotillion  and  participated  only  in  the  "round 
dances,"  to  the  intense  horror  of  all  the  respectable 
dowagers. 

"  Just  look  at  that  girl,  will  you  ?"  said  one.  "This 
is  the  fifth  time  she  has  waltzed  with  Sid  Waltman." 

"  Sid  is  having  his  fun,"  said  another.  "  When  he 
gets  Miss  What's-her-name  to  the  topmost  pinnacle  of 
ecstasy,  he'll  give  her  such  a  fall  that  she  won't  have  the 
least  idea  where  she  is." 

"Yes,"  said  a  third,  "I've  seen  them  go  that  way 
by  the  score.  Sid  is  a  regular  lady-killer." 

' '  This  one  is  not  likely  to  '  go  that  way, '  "  said  a  gen 
tleman  standing  by, — no  other  than  Sid's  accomplished 
bachelor  uncle,  who  had  been  a  "lady-killer"  in  his 
time,  and  must  know.  But  then  it  might  be  that  he 
felt  a  slight  degree  of  envy  for  his  successful  nephew, 
and  that,  it  must  be  confessed,  disturbs  the  equilibrium 
of  one's  opinions. 

But  Mr.  Waltman  was  not  having  it  all  "his  way" 
as  much  as  was  imagined.  And  the  shrewd  way  ifl 
which  she  "  turned  the  tables"  on  him  and  amused  her 
self,  while  it  irritated  his  vanity,  raised  within  him  a 
genuine  feeling  of  respect.  Del's  greatest  power  of  at 
traction  lay  in  her  indifference  to  the  opinions  of  others, 
— not  assumed,  but  real,  genuine  indifference.  And  upon 
people  who  are  not  used  to  having  their  opinions  made 
a  matter  of  no  consequence  it  acted  as  an  irritating 
stimulant  toward  seeking  the  means  with  which  to 
soothe  their  vanity,  by  exciting  in  her  mind  a  higher 
sense  of  their  importance. 

For  once,  Sid  was  interested.  She  was  a  strange  girl 
and  full  of  surprises.  She  never  said  or  did  anything 
that  he  expected  her  to  say  or  do,  and  that  was  new. 


5 6  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Flirtation  was  becoming  as  a  thrice-told  tale  to  Sid. 
He  could  always  tell  when  they  would  droop  their  eyes 
and  blush,  and  where  they  would  pretend  to  be  indig 
nant,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  But  Miss  Hughes  evi 
dently  had  not  made  the  art  of  flirtation  a  study,  and 
refused  to  go  through  the  expected  manoeuvres.  Instead, 
she  made  him  ashamed  of  his  soft  speeches  by  her  blunt 
matter-of-fact  answers,  and  finally  constrained  him  to 
talk  common  sense. 

When  she  declared  herself  tired  of  dancing,  he  con 
ducted  her  to  the  parlor  and  requested  a  song.  He 
expected  a  brusque  refusal,  and  was  somewhat  alarmed 
at  her  ready  assent.  She  sang  no  comic  song  this  time, 
but  the  old,  old  "Vale  of  Chamouni,"  that  every  one 
had  thought  worn  threadbare.  But  who  had  ever  heard 
it  sung  like  that  ?  How  her  clear,  strong  voice  rang 
throughout  the  rooms  !  It  was  like  the  wild,  care-free 
carol  of  the  birds,  and  you  know  how  little  there  is  of 
striving  after  effect  and  expression  in  the  wood-choris 
ters'  song. 

"  Come,  do  not  sing  any  more,"  said  Sid,  when  she 
was  through  and  the  people  began  to  crowd  around 
her. 

She  took  his  arm  without  a  question,  or  the  slightest 
indication  of  surprise  or  disappointment. 

"  I  do  not  want  your  voice  to  become  common  prop 
erty,"  he  explained  as  they  left  the  room,  upon  which 
an  involuntary  silence  had  fallen. 

"  Pray,  upon  what  right  do  you  presume  to  monopo 
lize  it?"  she  inquired. 

"The  right  of  discovery,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  shall 
send  you  some  music  to-morrow  that  I  want  you  to 
learn." 

"  Indeed  !  at  how  much  per  week  do  you  propose 
to  engage  me?" 

"  The  thought  that  you  are  lifting  a  miserable  fellow- 
creature  into  the  seventh  heaven  ought  to  be  a  sufficient 
remuneration." 


THE   CHRYSALIS  DEVELOPS. 


57 


Adele  invariably  allowed  such  flattering  speeches  to 
pass  unheeded,  and  this  one  received  no  response.  A 
few  minutes  after,  they  received  a  summons  to  the  cloak 
room.  Mrs.  Berges  never  stayed  late.  "  The  secret  of 
enjoying  parties,"  she  had  said,  "consists  in  getting 
away  before  your  enjoyment  begins  to  wane;"  and 
upon  all  social  questions  Mrs.  Berges  was  considered 
good  authority.  Sid  accompanied  Adele  to  the  carriage 
and  bade  her  good-night  with  great  empressement. 

"You  did  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Berges,  as  they  were 
driving  toward  home.  "  You  made  a  decided  hit ;  but 
do  not  feel  puffed  up  upon  that  account.  You  will  find 
society  a  fickle  patroness,  and  another  time  you  may  be 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  sitting  against  the  wall  and 
backbiting  your  rivals." 

I  have  an  idea,  John,  that  you  do  not  care  for  parties, 
and  that  you  consider  dancing  a  foolish  and  perhaps 
sinful  amusement.  I  am  not  prepared  to  argue  the 
question  with  you,  but  leave  that  subject  to  those  who 
have  made  it  a  matter  of  deeper  investigation  than  I 
have.  However,  I  am  not  inclined  to  believe  it  a 
matter  of  utter  impossibility  to  make  of  dancing  an 
entirely  spiritual  exercise,  fit  for  the  angels  in  heaven. 
It  is  not  the  act  itself,  John,  but  \hzpurpose  which  lies 
beneath ;  and  while  I  think  the  world  might  dispense 
with  parties  and  dancing,  perhaps  with  advantage,  I 
also  believe  that  they  are  the  source  of  less  evil  than  is 
generally  supposed.  It  is  not  for  me  to  decide  which 
is  the  more  criminal, — dancing  or  speaking  evil  of  one's 
neighbors ;  but  /  should  greatly  prefer  to  have  my 
neighbors  employed  in  "  tripping  the  light  fantastic  toe," 
as  they  are  pleased  to  call  it,  than  in  riddling  my  character. 

When  the  people  of  this  world  have  become  angelic, 
John,  then  we  need  not  fear  to  allow  them  whatever 
employment  or  amusement  they  may  choose  to  engage 
in.  In  the  present  state  of  human  affairs,  amusement 
of  some  kind  is  absolutely  necessary,  as  a  relaxation 
C* 


5 8  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

for  the  overworked,  as  a  safe  outlet  for  a  superabun 
dance  of  vivacity  which  might  otherwise  work  mis 
chief,  and  for  the  dissipation  of  morbid  fancies  which 
dog  the  steps  of  the  student  and  of  the  recluse.  But  I 
cannot  presume  to  select  the  sort  of  amusement  that  is 
calculated  to  do  the  most  good  or  the  least  harm. 
These  people  presumed  to  select  for  themselves,  and 
there  is  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  follow  them  to  the 
end,  and  nothing  for  you,  John,  but  to  go  with  me. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SINGED   WINGS. 

So  far  as  the  inner  life  was  concerned,  our  two 
heroines  made  but  little  progress  throughout  this  sea 
son,  and  yet  it  seemed  abundant  with  matter  of  interest. 
Their  mornings  were  occupied  with  lounging,  reading, 
and  idle  discussions  upon  the  "logic  of  events,"  or 
the  newest  book ;  the  afternoons  in  loitering  through 
picture-galleries,  shopping,  and  promenading  the  most 
fashionable  streets  (oftentimes  dropping  into  a  restau 
rant  to  partake  of  shell-oysters  and  hot  coffee,  or 
perhaps  charlotte  russe  and  wine). 

The  gaze  of  the  passer-by  always  followed  Adele. 
She  flashed  upon  the  vision  like  a  splendid  apparition, 
and  it  must  have  been  hard  indeed  for  well-bred  people 
to  pass  her  without  turning  to  look  again.  But  when 
there  was  a  favor  wanted  Ophelia  was  always  the  one 
to  whom  the  appeal  was  made.  Timid  servant-girls 
in  search  of  a  place,  the  ignorant  or  the  stranger  want 
ing  information,  alike  received  the  kindest  attention. 
And  often  she  had  stopped  the  carriage  to  take  in  a 
woman  or  child  out  of  the  rain. 

"  Will  ye  be  so  kind  as  to  til  me  where  Mrs.  Washt 


SINGED    WINGS. 


59 


lives,  on  this  sthrate  ?"  said  a  tired-looking  laundress 
with  a  heavy  basket  on  her  arm. 

Ophelia  shook  her  head.  She  knew  no  "  Mrs.  Washt " 
any  place. 

But  on  the  next  square  she  interrupted  Adele's  ac 
count  of  the  last  night's  ball  with,  "I  wonder  if  she 
could  have  meant  Mrs.  West?" 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Ophelia?" 

"  That  woman  ;  and  she  looked  so  tired.  If  you'll 
wait,  Adele,  I'll  run  back.  I  won't  be  gone  long." 

"Oh,  where's  the  use?"  exclaimed  Adele,  impatiently; 
"she'll  find  it  in  the  course  of  time." 

"  But  it  maybe  that  her  time  is  precious  ;  it  must  be 
more  so  than  mine.  And  that  basket  was  heavy." 

Sure  enough  it  was  Mrs.  West,  and  the  tired  creature 
was  spared  an  afternoon's  perambulation  with  a  thirty- 
pound  weight  upon  her  arm. 

"  Why  do  you  take  so  much  trouble  for  such  people?" 
inquired  Adele,  when  she  had  returned. 

"Because  their  lives  are  hard,  and  mine  is  easy. 
And  it  is  my  pleasure,  as  well  as  duty,  to  be  kind  to 
those  whom  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  station  below 
me  in  this  life.  Wherefore  should  the  differences  of 
grade  exist,  but  to  keep  the  hearts  of  human-kind 
tender  and  warm  with  generosity  upon  one  side  and 
gratitude  upon  the  other?" 

"You  are  an  angel,  Ophelia,  if  there  is  one  upon 
this  earth,"  said  Adele.  "You  find  good  where  no 
one  else  would  think  of  looking  for  it." 

And  although  Ophelia  denied  profusely  that  there 
was  anything  angelic  about  her,  she  half-way  believed 
it  herself.  Everybody  said  she  was  good,  and  should 
she  presume  to  set  her  opinion  against  that  of  the 
world  ? 

On  this  subject,  yes,  Ophelia,  for  the  world  has  not 
the  opportunities  for  judging  that  you  have.  Besides, 
"  there  is  none  good  ;  no,  not  one." 

Only  once  was  there  an  attack  made  on  Adele's  chari- 


60  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

table  inclinations,  and  that  was  by  a  pert  little  beggar, — 
one  of  the  professionals, — who  had  scarcely  commenced 
to  chant  her  heart-rending  tale  of  "  dead  father,  sick 
mother,  starvation,  and  seven  small  children,"  when  a 
brisk  tap  from  Adele's  parasol  and  a  sharp  injunction 
to  "  stop  her  lying  and  mend  her  ways  before  the  devil 
got  her"  brought  it  to  an  abrupt  termination.  The 
thought  of  asking  sympathy  or  assistance  from  such  a 
brilliant  "bird  of  paradise"  was  not  likely  to  occur  to 
the  really  distressed.  There  are  some  people  who  seem 
made  only  for  the  enjoyments  of  life.  And  yet  they 
have  their  secret  burdens. 

When  all  the  round  of  lounging,  shopping,  and 
visiting  was  performed,  there  was  the  inevitable  even 
ing  entertainment  toward  which  the  surfeited  pleasure- 
seekers  looked  forward  with  extreme  reluctance  and 
distaste.  The  tediousness  of  these  heavy  affairs  Adele 
oftentimes  shirked  by  slipping  off  with  Sid  for  a  prome 
nade  beneath  the  combined  light  of  the  moon  and 
street-lamps.  What  glowing  hours  were  those  !  But 
as  often  she  was  accompanied  by  Sid's  cynical  uncle, 
or  the  opulent  and  corpulent  Major  Boynton,  the 
richest  man  in  L . 

This  ponderous  Crcesus  had  become  peculiarly  marked 
in  his  attentions,  which  the  dashing  country  beauty 
always  received  with  apparent  complacency.  The  nim 
ble  tongues  of  the  city  gossips  wagged  industriously 
over  it.  But  who  saw  the  diplomatic  hand  of  Mrs. 
Berges,  the  judicious  thorough-bred  favorite  of  society, 
in  this  affair?  If  that  cool,  self-possessed  lady  had  a 
passion,  it  was  for  match-making.  She  trafficked  in 
orange-wreaths  as  Napoleon  did  in  crowns.  Her  wary 
eye  measured  at  a  glance  the  worth  of  beauty  or  genius, 
and  unbiased  by  prejudice  she  disposed  of  them  accord 
ing  to  their  rank.  Her  assignment  of  Adele  to  the 
largest  fortune  in  the  city  designated  her  high  estimate  of 
her  guest's  rightful  rank  in  society.  She  had  perceived 
Sid's  concealed  and  unwilling  admiration  of  Adele 


SINGED    WINGS.  6 1 

from  the  first ;  but  Sid  was  poor,  poor  as  the  beggar 
who  sat  at  Dives'  kitchen-door,  compared  to  his  mag 
nificent  rival,  who,  having  utilized  the  late  civil  war, 
had  come  out  of  the  gory  conflict  covered  with  glory 
and  spoils,  miraculously  preserved  from  a  single  scratch, 
and  settled  down  to  a  life  of  luxurious  ease  and  death 
less  fame. 

Ophelia  had  disappointed  her  accomplished  mamma 
in  this  one  thing,  she  had  no  social  ambition,  no  taste 
for  triumph  and  display.  In  her  most  elegant  toilette 
she  would  stroll  about  through  neglected  galleries  and 
enjoy  herself  unobtrusively,  unmindful  of  the  true 
purpose  of  costly  vesture,  the  filling  of  one's  asso 
ciates'  hearts  with  envy  and  bitter  dissatisfaction  with 
their  own  less  pretending  array.  She  could  do  nothing 
with  Ophelia,  who  would  as  soon  talk  to  any  clerk 
upon  five  hundred  as  the  most  "bloated  aristocrat" 
of  the  day. 

But  the  gay  season  at  length  drew  to  a  close.  A 
grand  entertainment  given  by  Mrs.  Harper,  one  of  the 
grandees  of  the  city,  would  terminate  the  winter's 
festivities  with  one  final,  triumphant  blast.  Such  an 
avalanche  of  domestic  revolutions  as  preceded  that 
party  !  How  papas  growled  and  swore  they  would  be 
ruined  ;  how  daughters  pouted  and  mammas  persisted  ! 
And  then  to  see  the  serene  angels  sweetly  beaming  in 
their  new  clothes  at  the  party  ?  I  wonder  there  are  not 
more  Diogenes  hiding  from  the  contemptibleness  of 
humanity  in  the  secure  obscurity  of  tubs.  (A  goods 
box,  however,  strikes  me  as  being  a  decided  improve 
ment  upon  the  old  tub  plan,  which  I  suggest  for  the 
benefit  of  the  disgusted  modern  cynic.) 

"  I  wonder  if  the  wild  rose  of  Jonestown  is  to  grace 
the  festivities  to-night?"  The  slightly  ironical  tone 
of  the  speaker  indicated  his  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  and  of  the  proper  method  for  pleasing  his  lady 
companion. 

"Of  course  Miss  Hughes  will  be  here,"  was  the 
6 


62  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

contemptuous  rejoinder.  "  She  never  misses,  if  she's  in 
vited.  I  wonder  if  she'll  have  on  her  pearl-colored 
silk  again  ;  I  have  never  seen  her  in  anything  else." 

As  she  concluded,  the  object  of  her  remark  entered 
the  room  in  company  with  Mr.  Waltman.  No,  she 
did  not  have  on  her  "  pearl-colored  silk";  but  horrors! 
she  had  on  a  white  grenadine  that  had  cost  about 
twenty-five  cents  a  yard  !  The  young  ladies  in  silks 
and  laces  elevated  their  noses  contemptuously  as  Miss 
Hughes  passed  serenely  on,  looking  provokingly  stylish 
and  fine,  and  no  more  concerned  than  if  she  strolled 
amid  no  higher  surroundings  than  the  rugged  hills  of 
Jonestown.  Evidently  she  was  no  respecter  of  per 
sons.  And  now  that  the  gloss  of  newness  had  worn 
off,  and  she  began  to  perceive  of  what  inferior  material 
the  body  of  society  was  composed,  scorn  was  added  to 
her  indifference. 

It  was  absolutely  hideous  to  an  aesthetic  nature  to  see 
how  some  of  these  "  society  women  "  would  "  stab  and 
dirk"  each  other,  simply  from  a  cruel  enjoyment  in 
witnessing  the  pain  of  their  victims.  These  narrow- 
minded  creatures  were  cruel  simply  from  lack  of  intel 
lectual  development.  They  had  not  the  capacity  for 
looking  beyond  their  own  desires,  or  entering  into  the 
sufferings  they  caused.  Men,  I  believe,  are  seldom 
guilty  of  these  petty  vices ;  their  misdemeanors  are 
generally  upon  a  larger  scale. 

Despite  the  harsh  criticism  of  the  feminine  portion 
of  le  beau  monde,  Adele  was  immensely  popular  with 
the  gentlemen,  which  was  the  source  of  further  sneer 
ing.  "  Miss  Hughes  did  not  care  for  the  admiration 
of  her  own  sex."  And  suppose  she  did  not,  Mrs. 
Grundy ;  have  you  given  her  a  reason  to  prize  it  as  an 
inestimable  boon  ?  It  is  natural  for  woman  to  like  men 
better  than  her  own  sex,  because  they  possess  the  quali 
ties  which  she  does  not,  and  which  she  consequently 
admires  above  all  others,  and  the  man  who  does  not 
like  women  is  an  unnatural  monster. 


SINGED    WINGS.  63 

"  Show  me  the  celebrities,"  said  Adele,  as  they  wan 
dered  through  the  rooms;  for  some  of  the  "lions"  of 
the  city,  who  seldom  came  out  from  their 'lairs,  were  to 
be  present  upon  this  occasion.  "  But  first  let  me  try 
if  my  critical  eye  can  detect  them." 

Her  eye  wandered  over  the  crowd.  "There!  that 
gentleman  with  the  flowing  hair  and  mournful  dark 
eyes,  leaning  upon  the  piano,  and  looking  excessively 
bored — a  poet,  I  imagine  !" 

"  What,  with  the  scarlet  necktie  and  hair  parted  in 
the  middle  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  has  a  look  as  if  set  apart,  and  at  variance, 
from  the  surrounding  crowd." 

"You  are  right,"  and  Sid  laughed  maliciously. 
"  He  is  a  celebrity — in  his  way." 

"  I  knew  it !"  exclaimed  Adele,  triumphantly;  "and 
what  is  his  way  ?" 

"  Cock-fighting.  It  is  said  he  has  the  finest  collec 
tion  of  game-cocks  in  the  city." 

"A  chicken-fighter!"  exclaimed  Adele,  in  amaze 
ment.  "  And  is  that  the  style  of  your  celebrities  ?" 

"By  no  means.  This  young  man  is  the  son  of  a 
retired  nabob,  and,  being  left  to  the  selection  of  his 
own  amusements,  selected  cock-fighting.  He  is  an 
amateur  of  course,  and  only  exhibits  for  the  amuse 
ment  of  his  own  select  circle." 

"I  was  not  aware,"  returned  Adele,  "that  there 
existed  people,  grown-up  people,  who  could  take 
pleasure  in  such  exhibitions." 

"  How  behind  the  times  !"  exclaimed  Sid.  "  How 
rusty  you  country  folks  are,  never  to  have  heard  of  the 
cock-pits  and  game  fighters  !" 

"Well,  what  celebrity  is  this:  another  chicken- 
fighter?" 

A  handsome  young  gentleman,  with  a  rakish,  free- 
and-easy  air,  and  a  scowl  upon  his  broad  white  brow, 
slouched  past,  with  a  pretty  lady  on  his  arm. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  as  familiar  with  that  gentleman's 


64  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

name  as  with  your  own,"  returned  Sid.  "It  is  H , 

the  song-writer." 

"  Indeed  !  who  would  suppose  there  was  any  melody 
behind  that  frown  ?  And  this  other  Napoleonic-looking 
individual,  who  is  he?  A  philosopher,  at  least !" 

"  He  is  a  man  of  even  less  intellect  than  your 
abhorred  cock-fighter.  A  regular  good-for-nothing 
milk-sop,  if  you  will  excuse  the  expression.  Popular 
with  the  ladies  though,  as  you  may  see." 

"I  shall  give  up  trying  to  judge  anyone  by  their 
physiognomy,"  said  Adele.  "There  is  nothing  in 
expression." 

"There  is  everything  in  expression,"  returned  Sid. 
"You  rely  too  much  upon  striking  shapes  and  colors. 
A  large  forehead  does  not  constitute  a  man  of  genius, 
nor  do  a  pale  complexion  and  sombre  eyes  make  a 
poet." 

"  Literary  people  ought  to  wear  badges,  so  as  not 
to  be  mistaken  for  ordinary  mortals,"  said  Adele. 

"  Or  their  publisher's  trade-mark,"  added  Sid.  "  I 
suppose  you  knew  that  these  literary  people  are,  each 
of  them,  let  out  or  leased  to  some  editor  or  publisher, 
and  produce  at  stated  intervals  or  on  demand,  like 
machines." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Adele.  "  How  curious !  I 
always  thought  people  only  wrote  when  they  had 
something  to  say." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !"  Sid  replied,  with  a  highly  amused 
look  at  his  victim.  "They  write  under  the  pressure 
of  necessity.  I  have  seen  our  young  politician  yonder 
— that  heavy-set  young  man  with  the  florid  countenance 
— with  his  head  soaking  in  wet  rags  and  a  hot  brick  to 
his  feet,  writing  furiously  and  drinking  champagne 
cock-tails  at  intervals,  to  get  up  an  inspiration.  I've 
thought  of  trying  it  myself,  some  time." 

"I  always  thought  an  unclouded  mind  and  a  clear 
understanding  the  best  inspiration  one  could  have," 
said  Adele. 


SINGED    WINGS.  65 

"What's  the  use  in  having  a  mind  if  you  can't  turn 
it  to  some  account?  And  it  takes  these  editors  and 
publishers  to  spur  one's  wits.  For  instance,  you 
receive  a  telegram,  '  Wanted,  an  article  on  Napoleon 
III. — abusive.'  Suppose  you  are  entirely  uninformed 
as  to  the  character  of  Napoleon  III.  and  are  possessed 
of  a  vague  sort  of  sympathy  for  that  unfortunate 
monarch,  does  that  exempt  you  from  your  duty? 
Never !  You  go  to  a  public  library,  tear  down  all  the 
late  works  on  France,  collect  every  whisper  against 
your  victim,-  magnify  each,  add  a  few  original  invec 
tives  of  your  own,  bundle  them  neatly,  and  post  them 
to  your  editor.  And  then  to  hear  yourself  designated  as 
the  talented  young  author  of  that  able  article  on 
Napoleon  !  But  for  the  editor,  you  would  never  have 
been  the  talented  author  of  that  able  article." 

"  But  suppose  an  imaginative  article  is  wanted  ?" 

"Oh,  that  requires  different  treatment,"  was  the 
ready  rejoinder.  "If  a  '  blood  and  thunder '  piece  is 
wanted,  eat  fresh  pork  or  veal-pie  for  your  supper,  or 
sleep  on  a  leathern  hammock  as  Victor  Hugo  is  said  to 
do,  and  the  fevered  vision  will  not  be  long  in  making 
its  appearance.  Or  you  might  adopt  the  plan  of 
De  Quincey  and  other  illustrious  writers,  and  eat 
opium  or  hasheesh.  A  still  more  common  method 
is  imbibing  moderate  potations  of  brandy  and  water." 

"  Alas  !"  sighed  Adele,  "  are  there  no  truly  great?" 

"  What  nonsense  is  that  Sid  is  telling  you  ?' '  inquired 
Sid's  uncle,  whose  proximity  they  had  not  before 
observed. 

"Only  about  our  literary  people,"  said  Adele,  and 
recounted  all  that  Sid  had  been  telling  her. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  all  Sid 
tells  you?  Let  me  warn  you  in  time,  Miss  Hughes, 
that  my  nephew's  word  is  not  quite  as  reliable  as  the 
laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  There  was  an 
English  author,  years  ago, — Smart,  I  believe  his 
name  was, — who  actually  leased  himself  to  a  pub- 
6* 


66  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

lisher  for  the  term  of  ninety -nine  years,  the  only 
case  on  record.  And  there  are  a  few  contributors  to 
second-rate  periodicals  Avho  use  artificial  means  for 
stimulating  their  sluggish  minds.  Sid  himself  may  be 
one  of  them,  for  aught  I  know." 

Adele  looked  mortified,  but  the  incorrigible  Sid 
hastened  to  assure  her  that  all  his  uncle's  knowledge  of 
literary  folks  was  from  books,  whereas  his  was  from 
actual  experience.  "  Besides,"  he  added,  in  a  pretended 
aside,  "my  uncle  is  terribly  jealous  of  me,  and  would 
be  glad  if  I  should  take  the  smallpox,  or  anything,  to 
spoil  my  beauty  and  popularity." 

Adele  looked  indignantly  at  Sid,  but  made  no  reply. 

"I  should  think  Miss  Hughes  must  be  quite  tired  of 
you  by  this  time,"  said  Mr.  Beckworth.  "Why 
don't  you  take  her  into  the  ball-room  and  give  her 
some  chance  of  enjoying  herself?" 

"My  dear  uncle,  Miss  Hughes  has  been  surfeited 
with  enjoyment ;  all  she  wants  now  is  a  little  bodily 
nourishment  and  the  continued  attendance  of  her 
humble  servant,  your  devoted  nephew." 

Adele  looked  straight  before  her,  as  if  she  was  in  no 
way  concerned  in  the  conversation,  and  the  three 
entered  a  large  room  where  were  some  fifty  or  sixty 
persons  seated  at  small  round  tables,  waited  upon  by  a 
corps  of  well-drilled,  noiseless  waiters.  The  two  gen 
tlemen  were  very  facetious  and  the  young  lady  soon 
recovered  her  good  humor,  and  now  and  then  ap 
plauded  with  a  clear  ringing  laugh.  Gradually  the 
attention  of  the  whole  room  seemed  to  converge  upon 
this  party,  who  enjoyed  themselves  regardless  of  obser 
vation. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  a  lady  touched  Adele 
on  the  shoulder,  and  leaning  over  whispered  in  her 
ear. 

"Reported?"  returned  Adele,  indifferently,  though 
her  color  deepened:  "do  you  know,  Mrs.  Fairfax,  I 
scarcely  ever  stop  to  listen  to  reports?  If  I  gave  heed 


SINGED    WINGS.  67 

to  all  the  idle  gossip  that  is  afloat  about  me,  I  should 
have  my  hands  full." 

"I  should  think  so,  for  some  one  is  always  saying 
something  disagreeable  about  you,"  said  the  other, 
maliciously. 

"  It  is  envy,"  returned  Adele,  "pure  envy, — because 
I  am  a  little  better  looking  and  more  popular  than  they. 
If  they  only  knew  it,  every  envious  or  malicious  speech 
only  augments  my  popularity  and  their  insignificance." 

Mrs.  Fairfax  admitted  the  soundness  of  her  reasoning 
and  passed  on.  "  What  have  I  done  to  that  woman, 
that  she  should  torment  me,  as  she  does  upon  every 
available  occasion?"  inquired  Adele,  in  an  injured 
tone. 

"  Flirted  with  her  husband?"  suggested  Mr.  Beck- 
worth. 

"The  foolish  woman  ; — what  could  I  possibly  want 
with  her  silly  husband?  I  am  not  altogether  the  '  pink 
of  propriety,'  but  I  should  be  worse  than  a  fool  to  fall 
in  love  with  another  woman's  husband,  or  have  a  wish 
for  another  woman's  husband  to  fall  in  love  with  me. 
Though  I  confess  to  a  liking  for  sensible  married  men. 
Their  morals  are  generally  in  better  repair  than  is  the 
case  with  you  free-and-easy  bachelors  whom  nobody 
lectures  or  keeps  under  vigilant  watch  care." 

"  Mr.  Fairfax  should  be  a  saint  then,"  returned  Sid, 
"  if  curtain-lectures  and  a  '  vigilant  watch-care'  tends 
to  improve  one's  morals." 

"Mr.  Fairfax  is  an  impertinent  ape!"  returned 
Adele,  whose  strong  language  was  admirably  adapted 
to  set  the  delicate  nerves  of  fastidious  city-bred  dames 
upon  the  rack,  though  but  few  gentlemen  had  been 
known  to  complain  of  it.  "Now,  Mrs.  Harper's  hus 
band  is  capital,  jolly,  entertaining,  and  good-humored; 
and  she's  not  a  bit  stingy  with  him.  But  Fairfax  ! — I 
wish  you  could  hear  him  prate  about  his  domestic  in 
felicities — which  could  not  possibly  be  the  least  interest 
ing  to  any  one  but  himself;  and  his  longings  for  a  con- 


68  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

genial  mate,  such  as  the  lady  he  is,  at  the  time,  speak 
ing  to,  for  instance." 

"  The  fool !"  exclaimed  Sid,  "  I  wish  I  could  hear 
him  at  that.  I'd  give  him  a  pressing  invitation  to  hold 
his  tongue.  I  never  liked  the  man." 

"  This  city  is  peculiar  for  but  one  thing,"  said  Adele 
in  a  generalizing  tone,  as  if  she  had  viewed  nigh  all  the 
cities  in  the  universe,  "  that  is,  tattling." 

At  this  juncture  Ophelia  and  young  Ripley,  the 
banker's  son,  entered  and  seated  themselves  at  an  ad 
joining  table.  "  Mr.  Waltman,"  said  Ophelia,  "  Mrs. 
Harper  is  looking  for  you.  Their  drama  is  about  to 
fail ;  Miss  Fischer  is  sick  of  the  measles  and  could  not 
come ;  and  Mrs.  Harper  wishes  you,  Adele,  to  take 
her  place.  I  told  her  you  would." 

"  But  I  don't  know  the  part,"  said  Adele. 

"  Oh,  you  can  soon  learn  it,"  exclaimed  Sid.  "It  is 
not  difficult,  and  we  have  an  hour  yet,"  looking  at  his 
watch.  "The  measles! — how  lucky!  of  course  Miss 
Fischer  couldn't  be  expected  to  come  with  the  measles, 
and  the  company  is  saved  from  the  heaviest  piece  of 
acting  that  was  ever  put  upon  the  boards.  Come, 
let's  away  to  Mrs.  Harper.  This  promises  to  be  enter 
taining." 

They  were  received  by  an  anxious  looking  group. 
The  matter  was  re-explained,  the  costumes  exhibited, 
and  Miss  Hughes  presented  to  the  talented  young 
author,  and  the  remainder  of  the  talented  company, 
en  masse.  A  glance  at  the  elegant  pile  of  peach-blos 
som  silk  and  Mechlin  lace,  and  the  thought  of  Miss 
Fischer's  fury  when  she  should  learn  who  wore  it,  de 
cided  Adele.  That  young  lady  had  said  too  many 
spiteful  things  about  her  not  to  deserve  punishment  at 
her  hand.  So  thought  Adele ;  and  she  took  the  play, 
glanced  over  it,  and  said  she  would  take  the  part,  in 
so  decided  and  self-assured  tone,  that  the  dramatic 
corps  revivified. 

After  half  an  hour's  seclusion  she  presented  herself 


SINGED    WINGS.  69 

ready  for  a  rehearsal.  I  cannot  remember  the  details 
of  the  drama ;  but  Adele  had  the  part  of  a  gay,  fashion 
able  belle,  who  was  represented  as  having  a  real,  throb 
bing  heart  (instead  of  an  electrified  india-rubber  con 
cern)  beneath  her  silken  boddice  ;  whose  trials  and 
misfortunes  are  marvelous,  but  tending  to  inner  de 
velopment  ;  and  who  finally  triumphs  over  the  sar 
donic  machinations  of  her  enemies  and  secures  the 
crowning  blessings  of  life,  a  tremendous  fortune  and 
a  splendid  husband  :  which  latter  part  was  nobly  re 
presented  by  Mr.  Sid  Waltman. 

"  Here,"  remarked  Sid,  when  the  end  was  attained, 
"  I  shall  have  to  kiss  you.  Not  that  /care  in  the  least 
about  it,  but  such  are  the  instructions,  and  Miss  Fischer 
performed  it  in  that  way." 

"  One  performance  of  that  part  will  suffice,"  re 
turned  Adele,  coldly. 

He  looked  at  her  with  some  curiosity :  she  did  not 
blush,  nor  laugh,  nor  display  the  least  confusion. 
"Confound  it!"  he  thought,  "the  girl  is  wooden 
surely." 

Miss  Hughes  performed  her  part  well,  and  astonished 
the  audience,  and  even  Sid,  by  her  impassioned  act 
ing.  Her  whole  heart  was  in  it.  Evidently  she  forgot 
everything  but  her  part.  And  when  Sid  kissed  her  he 
felt  that  she  was  not  thinking  of  him  but' of  the  charac 
ter  he  represented ;  and  Sid  was  vexed.  But  long 
afterward,  and  often  in  her  waking  visions,  that  light 
but  warm  pressure  of  his  lips  upon  hers  returned  to 
her,  and  then  it  made  itself  felt ;  and  Sid  had  his  re 
venge.  For  from  that  time  forth  he  went  no  more  out 
of  her  thoughts. 

Come,  John, — suppose  you  turn  your  attention  this 
way  and  quit  looking  out  at  the  window.  There  is 
nothing  out  there  but  a  few  dun-colored  houses,  and  a 
milk-wagon  or  two.  I  am  not  quite  so  renowned  a 
beauty  as  Helen  of  Troy,  nor  a  beauty  at  all  for  that 


70  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

matter ;  but  I  candidly  confess  that  I  think  myself  better 
worth  looking  at  than  a  landscape  of  brickwork.  I  am 
tired  of  prosing,  John,  and  want  to  come  down  off  my 
rostrum  and  sit  by  you  and  chat.  I  want  to  see  how 
tired  you  are,  and  how  much  more  of  this  you  will  en 
dure  without  complaint.  Three  volumes,  think  you  ? 

Ah  !  you  are  patient  and  good,  and  pretend  to  like 
my  flighty  chat.  That  is  right,  John.  A  smile  will  go 
further  toward  improving  one,  any  day,  than  a  frown. 
And  when  you  say,  "  That  does  very  well,  mignon, — 
your  author's  cap  becomes  you  well,"  I  am  not  so 
foolish. as  to  think  myself  already  arrived  at  perfection 
and  fitted  to  enter  the  lists  with  veterans;  but  rather 
a  deeper  sense  of  my  deficiencies  takes  hold  upon  me 
and  urges  me  to  strive  more  earnestly  to  deserve  your 
good  opinion. 

Not  that  I  am  so  good, — oh,  dear  !  no.  Not  that  I 
am  exempt  from  all  those  petty  faults  I  have  been  palm 
ing  upon  the  sex  in  general,  nor  any  the  less  liable  to 
error.  If  you  should  interrupt  my  story  in  the  most 
interesting  portion,  with  a  tedious  dissertation  upon  the 
graces  and  beauties  of  the  divine  Mrs.  John  (past,  pre 
sent,  or  future),  and  conclude  by  displaying  a  beautiful 
porcelain-type  of  your  divinity  (porcelain-types  always 
flatter),  it  is  highly  probable  that  I  should  be  vexed,  and 
perhaps  exclaim,  satirically,  "  Call  that  a  beauty  !  You 
couldn't  judge  for  me,  Mr.  John," — and  furthermore 
add  that  I  feared  the  tempers  or  dispositions  of  ladies 
of  that  description  were  not  so  good  as  they  might  be. 

All  the  very  best  of  us  can  do  is  to  pray  not  to  be 
led  into  temptation.  So,  John,  I  decline  hearing  any 
thing  about  Mrs.  John's  superiority,  or  looking  at  her 
picture ;  unless,  indeed,  she  be  not  so  good-looking  as 
I,  in  which  case  it  will  be  easier  to  be  charitable  and 
forgiving. 


THE  AMBITIOUS  MAN. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   AMBITIOUS  MAN  WITH    A  CAREER   BEFORE   HIM,  AND 
THE    AMBITIOUS    MAN  WHOSE    CAREER    IS    CLOSED. 

ONE  morning  Sidney  Waltman  sat  in  his  office 
smoking  a  -cigar  and  trying  to  concentrate  his  mind  to 
business.  At  least  he  thought  he  was  trying,  but  some 
how  his  mind  of  late  had  contracted  a  habit  of  wander 
ing  persistently  from  the  subject  in  hand.  He  smiled 
several  times  over  a  brief  he  was  writing,  and  presently 
shoved  it  aside,  and,  opening  his  desk,  took  out  a  small 
miniature.  It  is  no  harm,  John,  if  we  look  over  his 
shoulder  and  see  too.  It  is  a  colored  ivory-type  of 
Adele.  The  picture  was  not  flattering,  but  it  was 
taken  in  one  of  her  happiest  moods.  The  usual  spark 
ling  vitality  of  her  countenance  seemed  under  a  faint 
cloud  of  sadness,  and  in  her  dark,  hazel  eyes  was  a 
tender,  almost  languishing  light,  such  as  the  crowd 
never  beheld  there. 

There  was  a  step  on  the  stair,  and  Sid  hastily  dis 
posed  of  the  picture,  and  raking  a  pile  of  dingy  docu 
ments  together,  put  on  a  penetrating  frown.  A  chat 
with  Ripley,  or  any  of  that  clique,  on  the  rival  merits 
of  "Longfellow"  and  "Harry  Bassett,"  or  Kellogg 
and  Nilsson,  was  not  to  his  taste  this  morning.  Besides 
he  had  work  to  do.  Ripley,  with  a  bank  at  his  back, 
might  afford  to  lean  against  its  corners,  and  expend 
himself  in  theatre-  and  horse-talk,  but  he  had  no  time 
for  such  idle  amusements. 

It  was  not  Ripley,  however,  nor  any  of  his  clique  ; 
it  was  Sid's  honored  uncle.  Now  Sid  liked  his  uncle, 
for  two  reasons.  He  knew  positively  that  he  was  not 
to  fall  heir  to  his  uncle's  extensive  property,  it  having 


72  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

been  made  over,  long  ago,  to  certain  charitable  insti 
tutions  ;  and  he  knew  that  his  uncle  had  a  real  interest 
in  his  welfare.  So  he  arose  and  handed  him  a  chair, 
with  a  show  of  cordiality  and  respect  that  was  not  all 
assumed. 

"Do  not  let  me  interrupt  you,"  he  said,  taking  the 
chair  and  propping  his  feet  upon  another. 

Sid  was  not  interrupted  ;  he  was  rather  glad  to  have 
his  uncle  to  talk  to  just  then,  to  show  him  the  picture 
which  had  just  been  tinted  by  a  skillful  artist,  and  to 
ask  his  advice  on  various  subjects.  So  he  handed  him 
the  picture  and  a  cigar,  and  lighting  a  fresh  one  for 
himself,  stretched  his  feet  upon  the  rug  and  forgot  his 
work. 

Mr.  Beckworth  was  one  of  those  gentlemen  who 
grow  old  handsomely.  He  was  somewhat  massive  in 
his  build,  though  his  hands  and  feet  were  aristocratically 
small.  His  complexion  was  of  that  peculiar  description 
likened  by  George  Eliot  to  "old  ivory," — a  deep 
gray  eye,  critical  and  cold  in  its  quiet  penetration,  and 
a  face  upon  which  only  vast  and  devastating  storms 
could  work  any  perceptible  change.  Not  that  it  con 
tained  a  hint  of  harshness  or  of  hardness, — it  was  singu 
larly  free  from  traces  of  vulgar  or  vicious  thought ;  but 
impulses  and  emotions  had  been  battled  down,  and  had 
settled,  strata  upon  strata,  until  the  incrustation  com 
prehended  a  tablet  upon  which  only  the  sharp  tool  of 
the  engraver,  Sorrow,  could  make  a  riffle  of  change. 
It  was  an  intellectual  face,  and  strangely  attractive 
withal. 

He  looked  at  the  picture  awhile  in  silence ;  then  said 
it  was  "good,"  and  laid  it  aside.  "You  are  the  young 
gentleman,"  he  said,  holding  his  unlighted  cigar  be 
tween  his  dainty  thumb  and  finger,  "  who  was  to  employ 
his  youth  in  laying  a  broad  foundation,  upon  which,  in 
after-life,  was  to  be  erected  a  grand  structure, — a  temple 
of  all  that  is  noble  and  good  ;  in  other  words,  give 
his  whole  mind  to  deep  and  earnest  study,  take  advan- 


THE  AMBITIOUS  MAN. 


73 


tage  of  every  opportunity  to  acquire  knowledge,  and  to 
rise  to  unexampled  eminence." 

"You  have  enunciated  my  creed  correctly,"  re 
turned  Sid. 

"But  I  detect  a  flaw  in  the  practice. " 

Sid  glanced  at  his  uncle  through  his  long  black 
lashes,  and,  smiling  slightly,  replied,  "I  understand, — 
too  much  party,  theatre,  and  Miss  Hughes." 

"Yes,  and  especially  Miss  Hughes.  If  you  are  in 
earnest  in  your  ambitious  schemes,  Sid,  I  advise  you, 
let  women  alone.  They  are  death  to  all  such  lofty 
projects." 

"Really,  uncle,  I  have  no  serious  intentions." 

"I  did  not  seriously  suppose  that  you  had,"  inter 
rupted  his  uncle,  impatiently;  "but  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  carrying  a  flirtation  too  far;  and  this,  I  con 
fess,  begins  to  wear  a  serious  aspect, — upon  your  side, 
at  least." 

"Oh,  I  can  take  care  of  myself,"  returned  Sid,  with 
a  laugh. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that ;  and  so,  for  that  matter,  can 
the  young  lady.  But,  in  the  mean  time,  what  is  to 
become  of  your  career  ?  Your  business  prospects  suffer 
from  neglect ;  your  reputation  as  a  practical  business 
man  is  on  the  decline.  If  your  object  is,  simply,  enjoy 
ment,  marry  the  woman  you  love,  and  while  the  honey 
moon  lasts  you  will  have  it.  Further  than  that  no 
mortal  can  answer  for." 

Mr.  Beckworth  arose,  looked  through  his  eye-glass 
at  the  pictures  of  Mrs.  Siddons  and  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  which  adorned  the  walls,  and  was  turning  to  take 
his  leave,  when  Sid,  suddenly  arousing  from  his  deep 
reverie,  exclaimed, — 

"Not  so  fast,  Mr.  Beckworth;  I  am  not  through 
with  you  yet,  my  sage  adviser.  I  know  you  are  an 
accomplished  theorizer.  You  follow  your  own  advice, 
and  live  up  to  your  own  theories,  too, — which  is  more 
than  the  most  of  them  do.  But  what  has  come  of  it  ? 


74  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

You  have  not  married;  you  are  proud  and  ambitious; 
and  where  is  your  career  ?' ' 

Mr.  Beckworth  returned,  re-seated  himself  deliber 
ately,  and  restored  his  feet  to  their  former  comfortable 
position.  "  Have  you  a  glass  of  sherry,  or  port,  or 
anything,  by  you,  Sid?"  he  inquired. 

The  young  gentleman  fumbled  among  his  papers 
awhile,  and  finally  produced  a  lean  bottle,  from  which 
he  drained  a  meagre  glass  of  pale  ale.  "  That  is  all  I 
have,  uncle,"  he  said,  apologetically. 

His  uncle  thanked  him,  drained  the  glass  without 
making  a  face,  and  after  a  moment's  pause  began  : 
"Suppose  I  should  tell  you,  Sid,  that  I  am  not  the 
bachelor  the  world  takes  me  to  be?" 

"How?"  exclaimed  Sid,  looking  puzzled.  "You 
are  not  married?" 

"  I  was  married,"  said  his  uncle.  For  a  few  moments 
there  was  silence  between  them.  Sid  did  not  venture 
to  give  voice  to  his  astonishment,  but  waited,  respect 
ful  and  attentive. 

"I  was  about  your  age, — the  young  lady  some  two 
or  three  years  younger;  but  she  was  older  in  head. 
You  remember  the  picture  over  the  mantel  of  the  east 
chamber? — the  one  which  you  and  Beverley  admired 
so?  It  is  not  a  fancy  picture,  as  you  supposed,  but  the 
portrait  of  my  wife." 

"  That  splendid  gypsy  beauty?"  exclaimed  Sid. 

"  She  was  Spanish,"  said  his  uncle.  "I  married  her 
in  San  Francisco,  after  a  few  weeks'  acquaintance.  It 
was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight, — upon  both  sides,  con 
fessedly.  We  lived  together  a  year.  The  honeymoon 
was  ecstatic.  I  confidently  believed  myself  the  most 
fortunate  man  in  the  universe.  I  had  the  most  devout 
impulses  of  charity  and  good-will  toward  man  ;  re 
newed  my  neglected  religious  exercises,  and  had  serious 
inclinations  toward  joining  the  church." 

Mr.  Beckworth  took  out  his  cigar-case,  passed  it  to 
Sid,  bit  off  the  end  of  his  cigar,  and  lit  it.  "All  chaff! 


THE  AMBITIOUS  MAN.  75 

At  the  end  of  the  year,  when  'my  wife  eloped  with  a 
former  lover,  after  secret  intrigue  and  deception  which 
Satan  himself  could  not  have  eclipsed, — so  innocent 
and  pious  a  face  the  angel  wore  ! — I  could  have  burned 
every  church,  bible,  and  tract  in  Christendom  with 
pleasure.  If  you  must  marry,  Sid,  marry  for  money ; 
and  then  if  she  elopes,  take  care  that  she  leaves  her 
goods  and  chattels  behind.  Then  you  will  not  be  left 
an  entirely  helpless  object  of  pity  and  scandal.  My 
adored  managed  to  take  a  goodly  portion  of  this  world's 
goods,  for  which  she  married  me,  along  with  her, — I 
trusted  the  angel  so.  However,  you  would  be  spared 
that  misfortune,  Sid, — ha !  ha !  You  have  nothing, 
except  this  beautiful  office, — in  arrears  for  rent,  I'll  be 
bound, — and  its  elegant  upholstery,  worth  about  five 
dollars,  en  masse." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  inquired  Sid,  not  participating 
in  his  uncle's  merriment. 

"I  neither  know,  nor  care,"  he  replied.  "Dead 
perhaps ;  I  hope  so,  though  we  are  no  more  to  each 
other  than  if  she  had  never  existed ;  still,  I  should  not 
like  to  see  her  again." 

"Then  I  should  think  you  would  not  care  to  keep 
her  picture." 

"Oh,  yes!  I  keep  that  to  remind  me  of  what  an 
utter  idiot  I  have  been,  and  might  be  again ;  and  to 
prevent  my  forgetting  what  a  consummate  cheat  is 
female  loveliness, — a  mere  outside  show,  beneath  the 
fairest  of  which  Magdalen's  seven  devils  have  taken  up 
their  permanent  residence." 

"  You  need  no  such  reminder,"  returned  Sid,  with  a 
sigh.  "You  can  mingle  familiarly  with  the  most  beau 
tiful  and  attractive,  and  receive  no  damage.  Would 
that  I  had  your  armor,  for  I  fear  me  you  will  yet  find 
me  in  some  dingy  tenement,  stretching  every  nerve  to 
keep  starvation  from  the  door, — all  hope  of  a  career 
laid  in  its  grave." 

Mr.  Beckworth  held  his  cigar  between  his  fingers, 


76  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

and  contemplated  it  reflectively.  "You  are  right,"  he 
said,  turning  his  quiet  gray  eye  upon  Sid.  "  My  heart 
is  dead,  at  last." 

"I  suppose  it  is  worth  the  sacrifice,"  resumed  Sid, 
with  an  air  of  depression.  "  I  have  seen  enough  of 
promising  young  men  coming  to  naught  from  having 
a  family  on  their  hands.  And  I  confess  that  I  have  a 
cowardly  dread  of  poverty.  But  you,  uncle,  have  no 
such  drawbacks.  Your  career  is  done.  You  have 
wealth  and  the  mature  judgment  to  make  a  better 
selection.  Why  not  marry,  and  give  your  house  a  mis 
tress?  It  sadly  needs  one." 

"I  tell  you,  woman  has  no  longer  any  power  over 
me.  It  might  be  that  I  would  take  a  pleasure  in  the 
possession  of  a  superb  living  statue,  the  same  as  in 
other  adornments  of  my  establishment." 

He  arose  immediately,  threw  the  remainder  of  his 
cigar  in  the  grate,  and  departed. 

For  a  long  time  Sid  remained  in  the  position  his 
uncle  left  him,  lost  in  thought.  "  A  right  shrewd  old 
chap,"  was  his  irreverent  reflection.  "  I  see  that  he  is 
right."  He  took  up  the  little  miniature  that  was  still 
lying  on  the  table,  and  looked  at  it  long  and  tenderly. 
"You  are  very  beautiful,  but  time  corrodes  such  love 
liness.  You  are  enchanting,  but  such  delights  soon 
languish  and  die.  I  choose  fame, — difficult  to  procure, 
but  everlasting.  When  I  am  in  the  meridian  of  my 
glory,  you  will  be  a  wrinkled  parody  on  your  past 
magnificence." 

And  yet  he  sighed  as  he  locked  it  into  its  secret 
hiding-place,  and  resumed  his  interrupted  work. 

What  is  the  meaning,  John,  of  this  strange  struggle 
between  good  and  evil  we  call  life? 

Of  what  are  we  created, — our  souls  I  mean, — that 
we  are  forever  at  war  with  ourselves?  Are  we  equal 
parts  of  God  and  devil  ?  How  often  under  the  pressure 
of  urgent  circumstances  we  commit  wrongs  for  which 


THE  AMBITIOUS  MAN. 


77 


afterward  the  good  within  us  mourns,  and  refuses  to  be 
at  ease,  until  we  have  made  atonement !  How  often, 
when  we  have  determined  upon  the  execution  of  some 
difficult  duty,  some  flaunting  temptation  has  caught  us 
in  its  current  and  whirled  us  out  of  all  sight  and  sound 
of  the  self-sacrificing  mood  !  What  are  we  at  last  but 
the  helpless  creatures  of  circumstance?  The  zealous 
Paul  would  perhaps  have  gone  on  to  his  dying,  perse 
cuting  Christians,  but  for  that  miraculous  arresting 
voice.  James  and  John,  and  al^  those  good  apostles 
might  have  spent  their  little  day  in  mending  their 
nets  and  cruising  along  the  shore  for  fish,  but  for  the 
unexpected  and  irresistible  command,  "Follow  me, 
and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men."  And  Judas  Is- 
cariot 

But  hold ! — I  perceive  a  flaw.  Paul  was  a  devout 
and  godly  man,  zealous  in  the  way  he  thought  to  be 
right ;  these  fishermen  pious,  God-fearing  men  ;  their 
day,  however  spent,  would  have  been  a  good  day : 
whereas  Judas,  whether  here  or  there,  in  whatever 
age  or  position,  would  have  shown  a  base  career.  He 
who  has  it  in  him  to  love  God  cannot  but  be  noble, 
however  humble  his  lot,  and  the  hater  of  righteousness 
has  that  within  him  which  tends  to  defilement,  how 
ever  lofty  his  position. 

Dear  John,  let  us  serve  God  and  keep  his  com 
mandments.  If  we  are  careful  to  do  that  we  need  not 
bother  over  the  mysteries  of  this  life.  Knowledge  will 
come  in  the  hereafter,  and  that  will  be  soon  enough. 


78  UNDER    THE    SURFACE. 

i 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   UNEXPECTED    EXIT. 

• 

ONE  afternoon,  upon  returning  from  their  diurnal 
stroll,  the  young  ladies  found  two  unexpected  visitors 
awaiting  their  return.  They  were  Messrs.  Waltman 
and  Hughes  (our  old  friend  Herve). 

Herve  had  been  there  some  time  ;  had  amused  him 
self  with  pictures,  books,  and  albums,  finally  settling 
down  upon  the  poems  of  Bret  Harte,  which  he  found 
upon  the  table,  marked  at  the  poem,  "Her  Letters," 
with  a  lady's  glove.  He  was  dressed  very  genteelly, 
and  having  informed  the  servant  who  he  was,  and  that 
he  was  from  the  country, — the  latter  being  a  totally  un 
necessary  piece  of  information,  as  that  honest,  trusting, 
innocent  physiognomy  was  recognizable  as  a  product 
of  the  "green  retirement"  even  to  Timon, — was 
ushered  into  the  front  parlor  to  wait.  Sid  had  called  a 
short  time  after,  and — being  told  that  the  young  ladies 
were  out  was  about  to  depart  when  Tim  volunteered 
the  information  that  they  would  be  in  directly,  and 
that  there  was  "another  gen'leman  waitin'  in  de  par 
lor," — concluded  to  wait  in  "  de  parlor"  too. 

Not  being  advised  of  Mr.  Hughes's  identity,  Sid  had 
concluded  him  one  of  Adele's  admirers  and  quizzed 
and  worried  him  to  his  heart's  content.  Herve,  though 
a  sensible  and  well-informed  fellow,  was  no  match,  in 
this  sort  of  tilting,  for  Sid  Waltman.  He  knew  how 
to  deal  with  honest  criticism ;  but  this  covert  ridicule, 
skillfully  sheathed  in  polished  and  courtly  expressions, 
he  had  neither  the  skill  nor  the  patience  to  parry. 
Herve  was  none  of  your  "slow  coaches,"  and  his 
blood  was  about  at  fighting-point  when  the  young 
ladies  arrived. 


THE    UNEXPECTED  EXIT. 


79 


Mr.  Waltman  came  forward  with  his  usual  grace  as 
they  entered  the  room, — expressed  himself  happy,  etc., 
at  the  same  time  acknowledging  his  "deep  indebted 
ness"  to  the  gentleman  present  for  having  enlivened 
the  tedium  of  waiting  by  his  lively  accounts  of  the 
crops,  etc. 

"Good  heavens,  it  is  Herve!"  exclaimed  Adele,  as 
her  quick  eye  passed  Sid,  and  measuring  the  erect  form 
and  flashing  eye,  took  in  the  whole  situation  at  once. 
She  greeted  her  favorite  brother  with  characteristic 
warmth  ario^  presented  him  to  Ophelia,  who  remem 
bered  him  quite  well, — and  to  Mr.  Waltman,  who  per 
ceiving  what  an  egregious  blunder  he  had  made  set 
about  rectifying  it  by  making  "a  clean  breast  of  it." 

"The  fact  is,"  he  said,  with  modest  confusion,  "I 
was  sure  it  was  one  of  Miss  Adele's  old  lovers,  conse 
quently  my  natural  enemy;  the  opportunity  was  too 
tempting,  and  I  set  about  dispatching  him  at  once. 
But  for  your  timely  arrival  there  is  no  telling  which  of 
us  would  have  been  the  mangled  remains  of  a  '  promis 
ing  young  man.'  ' 

His  apology  was  received  courteously;  but  finding 
the  social  atmosphere  a  little  chilly,  he  made  an  early 
exit. 

There  was  disheartening  news  from  home.  Mrs. 
Hughes  was  sick ;  the  two  elder  sisters  were  over 
burdened  with  care  and  work.  Tom  had  been  gone  for 
some  time,  no  one  knew  where,  and  everything  seemed 
on  a  general  descent  to  ruin.  Adele  was  wanted  at 
home.  Well,  she  must  go ;  there  was  no  help  for  it. 
Spring  was  beginning  to  break,  and  her  wardrobe  was 
in  a  fit  condition  for  entire  renovation,  with  no  means 
at  hand  wherewith  to  replenish  it ;  and  so,  taking  all 
things  into  consideration,  it  was  about  time  for  her  to 
get  back  to  the  "  old  prison." 

Mrs.  Berges,  though  she  was  anxious  for  Adele  to 
remain,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  was  not  one  of  those 
munificos  whereof  we  read,  who  delight  in  endowing 


80  UNDER    THE   SURFACE, 

their  protegees  with  splendid  outfits  at  their  own  ex 
pense.  Ophelia  remonstrated  with  Herve,  and  pro 
tested  that  Adele  would  not  be  of  much  service  to 
them ;  which  he  acknowledged  might  be  the  case,  but 
stood  firm.  She  must  be  ready  and  at  the  depot  by 
seven  in  the  morning.  He  would  send  an  omnibus 
for  her,  as  he  had  some  little  business  matters  to  trans 
act  that  would  prevent  his  seeing  her  again  before 
that  time. 

Ophelia  told  him  that,  if  he  was  determined  that 
Adele  should  go,  she  would  take  her  to  the  depot  at 
the  appointed  time  in  the  carriage,  and  that  no  omni 
bus  was  necessary. 

"Write  me  all  the  gossip  and  current  items,"  said 
Adele,  as  they  drove  down  to  the  depot  in  the  early 
morning,  "and  by  all  means  everything  about  myself. 
Will  you,  Ophelia?" 

Ophelia  promised  that  she  would.  "All  our  literary 
discussions  are  at  an  end,  I  fear,"  she  said,  regretfully. 

As  they  drove  up  in  front  of  the  depot,  Sid  Walt- 
man  stepped  out.  "Going  home?"  he  inquired.  "I 
expected  as  much.  I  thought  that  burly  brother  had 
come  for  no  good.  He's  not  in  there,  is  he?"  starting 
back  with  a  look  of  pretended  apprehension  of  the 
"burly  brother ;"  but  upon  being  informed  that  he 
was  nowhere  around,  assisted  them  out. 

"It  is  too  cruel  of  you  to  be  deserting  us  in  this 
fashion,  just  as  you  were  becoming  indispensable  to 
our  comfort."  He  took  in,  at  a  glance,  how  hard 
it  was  for  her  to  go,  though  she  said  nothing  of  her 
reluctance.  "Shall  you  be  at  home  all  summer?"  he 
inquired. 

"I  am  not  likely  to  get  far  away,"  she  replied, 
shortly. 

"How  hospitable  are  you  Jonestown  folks?  to  the 
extent  of  keeping  a  jaded  denizen  of  the  town  for  a 
few  days  ?  I  have  relatives  out  there  and  may  make 
you  a  visit  this  summer." 


THE    UNEXPECTED  EXIT.  8 1 

"It  is  but  a  poor  place,"  she  said,  humbly.  "The 
dullness  is  hideous,  even  to  me,  accustomed  to  it ;  and 
to  people  who  all  their  lives  have  been  used  to  intel 
ligent  human  society,  it  would  be  unbearable,  I  fear." 

"  It  would  not  be  dull  to  me,  I  am  sure,"  returned 
Sid. 

"Nor  to  me,"  added  Ophelia.  "It  is  the  most 
romantic  old  place.  It  would  furnish  material  to  a 
fervid  imagination  for  air-castles  innumerable." 

"Do  you  build  air-castles  there,  Miss  Del?" 

"The  most  gloomy  and  ghostly  structures!"  ex 
claimed  Adele.  "They  frighten  even  me." 

"  You  must  expend  your  fancy  upon  such  edifices  no 
more.  Let  your  dreams  be  fairy  visions  hereafter,  and 
may  /inhabit  the  gayest  palace  of  all." 

"It  is  an  idle  pastime,"  said  Adele,  "and  I  shall 
waste  as  little  time  at  it  as  possible." 

"  What  an  opportunity  for  study  !  You  might  devour 
tomes  upon  tomes,"  said  the  literary  gourmand. 

"  My  good  friend,  I  should  be  delighted  to  do  so, 
but  books  are  not  a  natural  product  of  the  Jonestown 
hills,  and  I  find  the  growth  to  be  remarkably  scarce 
thereabouts.  I  literally  starve  for  something  to  read. 
A  few  periodicals  but  aggravate  the  appetite.  With 
plenty  of  books,  I  could  vegetate  comfortably  without 
ever  seeing  a  human  being.  In  society  you  are  often 
times  forced  to  read  when  you  have  no  desire  to  know, 
and  withheld  when  you  would  search  to  the  bottom ; 
but  with  books  you  can  make  your  own  selection." 

They  were  in  the  ladies'  waiting-room,  and  Sid  arose 
and,  going  to  the  clerk's  stand,  inquired  how  long  be 
fore  the  train  started.  "Fifteen  minutes,"  was  the 
reply.  Excusing  himself  to  the  young  ladies,  he  left 
them  and  went  out  on  the  street. 

"  What  a  pity  Sid  is  not  an  upright,  honorable  man 
like  Mr.  North!"  remarked  Ophelia,  looking  after  him. 

"I  would  sooner  trust  Mr.  Waltman  than  Mr.  North," 
returned  Adele,  decidedly.  "  I  think  Sid  has  more 


82  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

good  qualities  than  he  gets  credit  for, — more  than  he 
gives  himself  credit  for." 

No  more  was  said  on  that  subject.  Each  considered 
the  other  deceived  in  the  estimate  of  the  two  charac 
ters.  Presently  Sid  returned  with  a  package  under  his 
arm,  which  he  gave  to  Adele,  extracting  the  promise 
that  she  would  not  open  it  "until  she  was  quite  fam 
ished  for  something  to  read, — then  she  would  appre 
ciate  the  selection  more." 

He  had  just  settled  himself  comfortably  when  Herve 
made  his  appearance.  The  new  element  did  not  con 
tribute  materially  to  the  harmony  of  the  group,  and  I 
think  it  likely  that  the  whole  party  felt  relieved  when 
the  train  was  announced. 

A  hurried  farewell,  a  promise  to  write,  and  the  two 
friends  parted, — when  and  how  to  meet  again?  A 
close  pressure  of  her  hand,  a  deep  glance, — inscrutable, 
yet  full  of  meaning, — and  Sid  bade  farewell  to  the 
woman  whom  he  loved.  He  was  glad  she  was  going ; 
he  could  murder  and  bury  the  undesired  passion  with 
out  hinderance  or  delay.  Herve' s  adieus  were  made 
with  brevity  and  coolness. 

"Your  friend  seems  to  me  cold-hearted  and  formal," 
he  remarked  as  the  train  started. 

"She  is  not,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  That  insufferable  puppy,  Waltman,  deserves  a  good 
thrashing,"  he  further  remarked.  Receiving  no  reply, 
he  wisely  concluded  to  remain  silent. 

I  have  no  lecture  for  you  to-night,  John.  I  ought, 
perhaps,  to  scold  you  a  little,  merely  to  preserve  your 
self-complacency  within  reasonable  bounds  ;  but  the 
night  is  too  beautiful.  The  gray  twilight  lingered,  but 
it  is  gone  at  last.  The  restless  sentinel  at  my  window 
reaches  forth  an  arm  and  taps  upon  the  pane.  The 
listless  winds  whisper  mysteriously  amid  the  leafy 
branches,  and  a  faint  odor  of  spring  flowers  impreg 
nates  the  air.  There  are  no  lamps  to-night,  for  the  full 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE    CURRENT.  83 

moon  lights  up  the  street.  She  looks  saucily  in  at  our 
window,  John.  She  thinks  it  is  high  time  that  you 
were  gone.  So  good-night. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DRIFTING  WITH   THE   CURRENT. 

THE  house  seemed  gloomy  and  strange  when  Ophelia 
returned  to  it  alone.  She  wandered  through  the  lonely 
rooms  and  silent  halls,  moody  and  reflective,  but  not 
unhappy.  The  past  winter  had  been  rife  with  gayety, 
but  sadly  deficient  in  good  works.  This  day  ushered 
in  a  new  era.  She  "set  her  house  in  order,"  and  insti 
tuted  brave  rules  and  plans  for  the  coming  season. 

There  were  some  six  or  seven  families  of  worthy, 
struggling  poor  whom  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
supplying  with  clothes  from  the  refuse  of  the  family 
wardrobe.  She  had  neglected  this  during  Adele's 
stay.  Her  friend's  appetite  for  pleasure  seemed  so 
inexhaustible  and  contagious,  as  to  leave  no  leisure  for 
the  tiresome  exercise  of  performing  one's  duty.  But, 
really,  there  was  no  self-sacrifice  in  Ophelia's  charitable 
performances, — only  a  little  dry  dullness.  She  did  not 
love  her  poor  people,  except  in  an  abstract  way.  Their 
thoughts  and  ways  were  totally  different  from  hers.  She 
pitied  them,  and  they  were  very  grateful  to  her,  but 
there  was  no  sympathy  between  them. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  inquired  Miss  Fischer,  as 
she  and  Ophelia  met  at  a  corner  where  one  of  the  dingy 
streets — upon  which  her  "  poor  and  needy"  lived — led 
off  from  a  splendid  and  popular  thoroughfare.  "What 
in  the  world  took  you  up  there?" 

Ophelia  smiled  complacently.     She  liked  to  astonish 


84  UNDER   THE  SURFACE. 

her  butterfly  friends  with  accounts  of  her  good  deeds ; 
and  although  she  did  not  intrude  them  upon  public 
notice,  she  was  not  averse  to  their  being  made  known. 
The  look  of  awe  and  the  exclamation,  "You  are  an 
angel,  Ophelia!"  were  not  very  distressing  or  distaste 
ful  to  her:  at  least  she  endured  them  without  com 
plaint. 

"  I  suppose  it  would  be  useless,"  said  the  pretty  little 
worldling,  when  the  facts  had  been  explained  satisfac 
torily  to  all  parties,  "  to  ask  such  a  saint  to  go  with  me 
to  the  matinee?" 

"No,"  said  Ophelia,  yawning  furtively,  "I  am 
through  now,  and  I  know  of  nothing  to  prevent  my 
going." 

"  So  your  friend  has  left,"  said  Miss  Fischer,  as  they 
walked  down  street  together.  "  Do  not  you  feel  just 
a  little  relieved?" 

"No,  indeed,"  returned  Ophelia;  "  I  was  sorry  to 
see  her  go." 

"You  were  really  attached  to  her,  then?  It  was 
generally  supposed  that  the  attachment  was  almost 
entirely  upon  the  other  side." 

"  Adele  is  demonstrative,  I  am  not, — that  is  all  the 
difference." 

"But  you  are  not  at  all  alike,"  persisted  Miss 
Fischer." 

"Our  dispositions  are  different,  but  our  tastes  are 
almost  precisely  the  same.  Though  our  outward  ap 
pearance  and  actions  were  so  dissimilar,  we  thought 
and  felt  alike." 

"  You  approved  of  her  character  and  manner,  then?" 
looking  a  little  disappointed. 

"As  much  as  I  approve  of  any  one's,"  returned 
Ophelia.  "The  trouble  with  Adele  is  that  her  faults 
are  all  on  the  surface." 

"  She  was  rather  too  fond  of  admiration  to  suit  my 
taste,"  said  Miss  Fischer,  with  a  challenging  toss  of 
her  head.  "  I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  it." 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE   CURRENT.  85 

"We  are  all  fond  of  admiration,"  returned  Ophelia, 
mildly,  "  only  Adele  got  a  little  more  than  falls  to  the 
share  of  many." 

"As  mamma  says,  she  took  like  an  epidemic,  and 
was  dismissed  as  thankfully  as  if  she  had  been  one," — 
with  which  brilliant  piece  of  satire  the  conversation 
closed. 

The  play  was  a  popular  one,  but  Ophelia  took  but 
little  interest  in  it.  She  had  been  an  intense  admirer 
of  the  drama,  but  her  taste  had  changed.  The  glitter 
ing  tinsel,  -the  gorgeous  scenery,  and  imposing  para 
phernalia  had  lost  their  charm.  The  glory  had  some 
how  faded  away,  and  left  painted  men  and  women  in 
tawdry  finery,  scenery  that  had  been  daubed  with  a 
brush  like  a  broom  and  sold  by  the  yard,  and  glaring 
trap-doors,  where,  of  old,  the  spiritual  were  wont  to 
vanish  into  "thin  air."  She  could  no  longer  believe 
the  heroes  and  heroines  to  be  as  good  as  they  repre 
sented  themselves,  and  felt  indifferent  to  the  triumphs 
of  virtues  that  were  assumed  for  the  evening  and  cast 
aside  with  the  costumes  they  wore. 

Ophelia  flattered  herself  that  this  change  of  taste  was 
due  to  some  moral  or  intellectual  advancement,  but  it 
was  simply  because  she  had  entered  upon  a  graver  and 
less  enthusiastic  epoch  of  her  life.  She  did  not  reflect 
how  she  no  longer  wept  over  grand  anthems  and  ora 
torios,  nor  rejoiced,  loved,  and  hated  with  the  same 
extravagant  and  evanescent  fervor. 

It  so  chanced  that  Hal  Ripley  and  Mr.  North  were 
at  the  theatre  that  afternoon,  though  neither  of  them 
were  habitues.  North  was  too  much  of  a  business  man 
for  that,  and  Ripley  was  fonder  of  parties  and  balls. 

"I  thought  you  did  not  care  for  the  theatre?"  said 
Ripley,  sitting  down  by  Ophelia. 

His  injured  air  and  reproachful  tone  were  calculated 
to  impress  an  observer  with  the  idea  that  he  had  some 
cause  for  complaint  as  to  her  indifference  to  the  theatre. 
Ophelia  laughed,  as  she  usually  did  when  any  one  found 


86  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

fault  with  her, — it  really  seemed  so  absurd, — and  said 
that  nothing  but  a  desperate  state  of  listlessness  had 
brought  her  there.  Ripley  gave  her  his  opera-glass, 
and  while  she  scanned  the  crowd,  now  and  then  making 
a  remark  on  what  she  saw,  and  now  and  then  smiling 
upon  his  humorous  chat,  his  frown  and  injured  air  van 
ished.  Miss  Fischer,  in  the  mean  time,  inundated  the 
phlegmatic,  or  rather,  taciturn,  North  with  small  chat, 
bird-like  in  sound  and  sense.  The  matinee  over,  the 
gentlemen  accompanied  the  young  ladies  to  their 
homes. 

"Wait  for  me  at  the  corner,  North,"  said  Ripley, 
as  they  separated,  "and  we  will  go  back  together." 

The  two  ladies  lived  upon  adjoining  squares,  and  so 
it  was  not  long  before  their  escorts  met  ' '  at  the  corner, ' ' 
though  North  was  there  first.  "  I  expected  to  have  to 
wait  longer,"  he  said,  as  Ripley  came  up.  "You 
seem  very  fond  of  your  cousin?" 

"  She  is  not  really  my  cousin,"  said  Ripley.  "  The 
relationship  is  only  nominal."  When  they  had  walked 
a  little  distance  in  silence,  he  resumed,  "Yes,  I  am  fond 
of  Ophelia;  so  fond  that  I  intend  she  shall  be  my  wife 
some  day, — if  she  will  have  me." 

"You  are  in  earnest?" 

"  Certainly  !"  returned  Ripley,  a  little  sharply.  "  Is 
it  anything  strange  that  I  should  be  in  earnest?" 

Mr.  North  was  surprised,  not  to  say  startled.  He 
had  always  intended  Ophelia  for  himself;  indeed,  he 
had  given  Ophelia  herself  to  understand  that  such  was 
his  intention,  though  in  so  vague  and  guarded  a  manner 
as  to  leave  himself  free,  should  he  chance  to  change  his 
mind.  The  idea  that  any  one  else  might  cherish  the 
same  intentions  had  never  entered  his  mind.  He  had 
felt  entirely  secure  in  the  encouraging  appreciation  of 
Mamma  Berges,  and  also  in  the  evident  good-will  of 
the  daughter. 

He  turned  a  furtive,  calculating  glance  upon  his  rival. 
In  youth  and  personal  appearance  Ripley  had  the  ad- 


DRIFTING    WITH   THE    CURRENT.  87 

vantage.  They  were  prosperous  alike,  but- in  solidity 
of  position  and  reputation  North  felt  himself  to  be 
immeasurably  superior.  "I  have  been  the  careful 
architect  of  my  own  fortune,"  he  thought;  "every 
thing  is  substantial  and  sure  ;  whereas  Ripley  receives 
his  by  inheritance,  and  also  an  extravagant  and  luxurious 
taste,  and  no  business  knowledge  or  habits  to  sustain 
and  assist  him  through  difficulties. 

"You  know,  I  presume,  that  Miss  Berges  will  inherit 
none  of  her  adopted  father's  property?"  he  said  at 
length. 

"I  assuredly  do,"  returned  Ripley,  stiffly.  "A 
matter  of  no  consequence  whatever  to  me.  I  do  not 
propose  to  sell  my  chance  for  happiness  for  houses 
and  lands,  when  I  have  already  a  sufficiency.-  I  leave 
that  sort  of  proceeding  to  such  money-machines  as  you, 
North." 

"  I  admire  your  principle,"  returned  the  other.  "  It 
has  always  been  mine,  though  you  seem  to  consider 
me  entirely  sordid.  Ophelia  Berges  is  a  fortune  in 
herself,  and  needs  no  other  dower." 

"She  is  an  enigma  to  me,"  continued  Ripley, — "a 
sublime  mystery.  Sometimes  I  think  her  an  embodied 
glacier,  without  the  power  of  feeling ;  at  others  a  veri 
table  Desdemona  for  loving.  Whatever  she  may  be, 
she  is  the  bright  particular  star  of  my  affections,  and 
will  some  day  be  Mrs.  Ripley." 

Mr.  North  smiled  to  himself  over  this  extravagant 
bit  of  rhapsody  as  he  exclaimed,  "What!  Ophelia 
Berges  a  mystery?  I  know  of  no  one  of  whose  real 
character  and  disposition  I  feel  more  assured.  Any 
one  can  read  Ophelia  at  a  glance.  She  is  the  most 
transparent  creature  I  ever  saw." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  a  totally  disinterested 
party,"  returned  Mr.  Ripley.  "She  seems  an  affec 
tionate,  amiable  sort  of  a  creature,  and  that  is  all  you 
care  about  it." 

Mr.  North  did  not  say  what  he  "cared  about  it," 


88  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

and  the  two  separated  presently.  "I  flatter  myself 
that  was  a  first-class  coup  de  grace,'1  was  Mr.  Ripley's 
complacent  reflection.  "  He  will  not  dare  to  risk  his 
chances  against  a  handsome  young  fellow  like  me." 

But  Mr.  North  was  not  composed  of  as  malleable 
material  as  his  rival  presumed.  He  was  stubbornly 
persevering,  and  opposition  made  him  all  the  more 
determined.  Really,  he  had  no  desire  to  marry.  His 
habits  had  become  settled;  his  passions  had  fallen  into 
the  "sere  and  yellow  leaf;"  his  heart  was  as  dead  as 
an  Egyptian  mummy.  But  the  thought  of  leaving  his 
beloved  property — for  which  he  had  slaved  away  the 
happiest  portion  of  his  life — to  the  pack  of  relatives 
who  >  ere  waiting  for  it  with  longing  eyes, — greedy, 
unfeeling  people,  who  had  cast  him  off  in  childhood, 
and  whom  he  hated  now, — was  more  than  he  could 
bear.  He  must  marry,  and  Ophelia  was  the  only 
woman  he  knew  who  suited  him  in  the  least. 

She  was  intelligent,  amiable,  accomplished.  Also 
she  was  good, — pious.  Did  he  like  that  ?  A  pious 
wife  would  be  industrious,  kind,  and  frugal.  She 
would  have  mercy  upon  her  husband's  pocket-book. 
She  would  look  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and 
correct  the  manners  and  morals  of  her  servants  and 
children, — and,  alas  !  also  of  her  husband.  He  took  a 
whole  week  to  make  up  his  mind  ;  Mr.  North  never  did 
anything  without  due  consideration  ;  and  when  next  he 
met  Ophelia,  it  was  with  the  full  determination  of  making 
her  his  wife  as.  soon  as  he  could  obtain  her  consent. 

It  was  at  a  party.  She  was  with  Hal  Ripley,  as 
usual.  He  observed  her  with  a  new  interest.  His 
future  wife !  The  thought  started  his  pulse  into  a 
livelier  beat.  She  had  an  unusual,  a  patrician  grace 
which  detached  and  isolated  her  from  the  surrounding 
crowd, — like  some  elegant  exotic,  distinguished  above 
its  companions  of  the  conservatory,  more  because  of 
peculiar  and  uncommon  characteristics  than  for  actual 
beauty.  How  her  companion  watched  her  and  hung 


DRIFTING    WITH   THE    CURRENT.  89 

upon  her  words  !  It  was  evident  that  he  adored  her, — 
that  he  held  her  in  his  heart  an  idol,  worshiped  with 
a  savage,  idolatrous  fervor  of  which  she  seemed  wholly 
unconscious. 

Mr.  North  watched  his  rival  with  rising  indignation; 
saw  him  take  hold  of  her  arm  upon  pretense  of  adjust 
ing  her  bracelet ;  take  her  bouquet  and  appropriate  one 
of  the  handsomest  flowers ;  and  many  other  odious 
familiarities  which  he  wondered  she  did  not  resent. 
And  then  he  began  to  fear  that  he  had  rested  in  se 
curity  a  little  too  long.  Nothing  arouses  a  selfish 
nature  so  much  as  seeing  its  possessions  endangered. 
He  could  not  afford  to  lose  Ophelia,  and  the  fear  lest 
he  should  quickened  his  desire  to  possess  her.  But  so 
long  as  Ripley  was  near  her  he  held  aloof. 

Watching  her  chances.  Ophelia  at  length  escaped 
from  the  heat  and  glare  of  the  crowded  rooms  out  into 
the  balmy  moonlight  upon  a  deserted  veranda.  She 
was  growing  indescribably  weary  of  Hal's  constant  and 
assiduous  attentions.  Ophelia's  heart  in  its  una- 
wakened  state  was  hard.  Hal  was  a  "nice  fellow," 
good-looking  and  popular,  and  made  a  charming 
escort ;  and,  while  she  witnessed  his  growing  passion 
with  regret,  an  indolent  dislike  to  hard  feelings  and 
uncomfortable  experiences  prevented  her  giving  any 
decided  exhibition  of  her  disapproval.  And  now  that 
he  began  to  love  her  too  hard,  she  thought  it  very 
unkind  in  him  to  torment  her  with  his  jealousy  and 
despair.  It  was  not  her  fault,  she  thought.  She  had 
not  wanted  him  to  love  her, — only  to  be  her  friend ; 
and  she  could  not  understand  why  he  could  not  go 
away  and  love  some  other  woman  who  would  accept 
the  boon  with  more  gratitude.  And  there  were  scores 
who  had  given  strong  evidences  of  their  willingness  to 
accept  the  devotion  of  the  accomplished  banker's  son. 

As  Ophelia  tranquilly  contemplated  the  moon,  and 
thought  vaguely  of  these  things,  she  heard  a  light  step 
behind  her.  It  was  Hal,  she  supposed,  a  little  impa- 
8* 


9o  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

tiently,  come  to  hunt  her ;  but,  upon  turning,  was 
surprised  and  not  displeased  to  find  Mr.  North  at  her 
side.  There  was  a  flippant  speech  upon  her  tongue, 
such  as  society-women  soon  learn  to  fit  upon  awkward 
turns  and  pauses  in  their  little  play,  but  there  was 
something  in  the  look  she  met  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to 
his  that  suddenly  arrested  it. 

"  My  pet !  Oh,  you  are  mine,  you  know,  Ophelia, — 
long  ago ;  and  I  have  deferred  the  establishment  of  my 
claims  long  enough.  I  think  I  shall  proceed  to  take 
immediate  possession  of  my  rightful  property  before  it 
is  appropriated  by  some  other  enterprising  individual." 
He  had  taken  her  hand,  had  slipped  an  arm  about  her 
waist,  and  was  bending  to  look  into  the  startled  eyes, 
when  suddenly,  without  a  word,  Ophelia  broke  away 
and  was  gone. 

Mr.  North  looked  after  her,  foolishly.  He  never 
had  felt  quite  so  silly.  He  was  a  little  angry  and  a 
little  amused.  "I  was  too  hasty,  I  suppose,"  he  re 
flected.  "I  forgot  that  she  was  not  prepared, — had 
no  idea  of  the  rapid  strides  my  affections  had  made  in 
the  past  few  hours.  Another  such  clumsy  movement 
and  the  'game  is  up.'  ' 

He  felt  a  decided  reluctance  to  meeting  her  again 
that  evening,  but  he  determined  that  it  must  be  done, 
to  show  her  that  he  was  not  disturbed  or  affrighted  off. 
He  found  her  engaged  in  lively  conversation  with  two 
or  three  gentlemen,  but,  as  he  approached,  she  turned 
and  addressed  him,  without  the  slightest  hesitation  or 
embarrassment.  He  saw  that  she  intended  to  ignore 
that  little  episode, —  to  act  as  if  it  had  never  occurred. 
Further  than  that  he  had  not  the  power  to  read.  He 
had  come  upon  that  inscrutable  portion  of  her  char 
acter  which  Hal  had  remarked,  he  supposed  ,-but  it  did 
not  attract  him;  he  always  suspected  the  hidden  and 
mysterious,  yet  he  honored  reserve, — and  he  found  a 
deeper  reserve  in  her  character  than  he  had  thought. 

It  could  not  be  that  she  was  entirely  indifferent  to 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE    CURRENT.  91 

him.  He  had  seen  her,  too  often,  blush  and  tremble 
and  droop  her  eyes  beneath  his  too  earnest  scrutiny. 
Oh,  no,  she  assuredly  was  not  indifferent  to  him! 

(In  deciding  a  case  of  true  love,  my  dear  John, 
such  evidences  as  these  go  for  naught,  though  so  man^ 
of  your  sex  make  such  capital  of  them.  She  possibly 
shrank  from  a  too  familiar  scrutiny;  she  read  admira 
tion  in  your  eye,  and  was  abashed, — or  she  was  nervous, 
and  had  no  control  over  her  blushes.) 

Mr.  North  conversed  with  Ophelia  quite  as  coolly  as 
she  with  him.  He  would  meddle  no  more  with  senti 
ment. — it  was  not  in  his  line — until  he  had  settled  the 
matter  in  a  sensible,  business-like  way.  In  the  first 
place,  he  would  make  an  ally  of  the  old  gentleman, — 
her  father  ;  of  the  elegant  mamma's  approbation  he  was 
already  assured. 

Upon  the  following  morning  he  made  his  appearance 
in  the  office  of  the.Berges  "establishment,"  and  asked 
to  see  the  head  of  the  firm,  in  private.  The  head  of 
the  firm  presented  himself,  said,  "Good-morning,  Mr. 
North,"  and  led  the  way  into  the  inner  office  in  a  dry, 
business  way  which  would  have  frozen  the  very  marrow 
in  the  bones  of  any  other  person  coming  upon  such  an 
errand  except  a  "  cut-and  dried"  business  man  like 
North.  It  suited  him  precisely. 

He  made  a  concise  and  explicit  statement  of  his  pos 
sessions  and  his  expectations  ;  also  indicated  his  knowl 
edge  of  Ophelia's  condition  in  regard  to  finances,  and 
then  made  a  formal  proposition  for  the  dowerless  hand 
of  his  accomplished  daughter. 

Mr.  Berges  eyed  the  merchant  for  awhile  in  silence. 
Evidently  he  was  surprised.  "I  have  no  cause  for 
objection,  sir,"  he  replied,  slowly  and  reflectively.  "  I 
believe  you  to  be  a  strictly  honest,  upright  man,  or  I 
should  not  hesitate  to  decline  your  flattering  offer." 

"  I  may  rely  then  upon  your  favor  and  assistance  in 
my  suit?"  inquired  Mr.  North,  doubtfully. 

"What !  You  have  not  spoken  to  her?" 


92  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"Not  explicitly." 

"Ah,  this  is  indeed  honorable  !"  exclaimed  the  old 
gentleman,  brightening.  "  If  this  time-honored  custom 
of  consulting  the  parents  first  (who  must  know  the  sort 
of  man  who  would  make  a  good  husband  better  than 
the  daughter  could  possibly  know)  were  more  in  use, 
we  would  have  less  of  divorce  cases  and  desertions. 
This  is  as  it  should  be." 

"It  is  the  only  honorable  course,"  said  Mr.  North. 
"You  will  speak  to  your  daughter,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Berges,  and  inform  her  of  your  wishes  upon  the  sub 
ject." 

"I  will  speak  to  her  and  inform  her  of  my  entire 
approval  of  your  suit.  You  have  my  hearty  good  wishes 
for  your  success  and  happiness."  The  old  gentleman 
took  up  his  hat  and  gold-headed  cane,  shook  hands 
cordially  with  his  prospective  son-in-law  (who  received 
his  demonstrations  of  high  regard  with  the  modest 
dignity  of  deserving  merit),  and  intimated  that  he  was 
expected  elsewhere.  At  which  quiet  hint  the  prospective 
son-in-law  took  up  his  hat  and  gold-headed  cane,  and 
gracefully  made  his  exit. 

At  the  supper-table,  the  servant  having  been  dis 
missed, — stopping,  however,  at  the  keyhole, — heard 
the  following  conversation  : 

"I  have  some  surprising  news  for  you,  Ophelia," 
said  Mr.  Berges, — "  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  pro 
posal  for  your  hand." 

"From  whom,  papa?"  inquired  Ophelia,  blushing 
and  looking  slightly  confused,  but  not  so  surprised  as 
might  have  been  expected. 

"From  one  of  the  most  important  and  substantial 
business  men  of  our  city, — Mr.  Oliver  North," — re 
turned  papa,  with  evident  pride. 

"  The  very  match  I  have  always  intended  for  you, 
Ophelia,"  said  Mrs.  Berges.  "  How  you  will  be  envied  !" 

Ophelia  looked  a  little  flattered  and  a  little  alarmed, 
but  doubtful.  "  I  have  no  wish  to  be  envied,  mamrna." 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE    CURRENT. 


93 


"No,  I  presume  not,"  returned  mamma;  "but  you 
are  remarkably  fortunate,  considering  that  you  have  no 
very  forcible  attraction — wealth,  beauty,  or  extraordi 
nary  genius — to  recommend  you  to  popular  favor.  I 
take  a  practical  and  business  view  of  the  matter,  you 
understand.  We  would  not  have  you  otherwise  than 
you  are,  but  the  world,  you  know,  sees  with  impartial 
eyes  and  weighs  narrowly.  You  have  drawn  a  capital 
prize.  Mr.  North  is  a  gentleman  of  large  property,  of 
high  standing,  and  of  irreproachable  character." 

"  It  has  been  the  source  of  great  trouble  and  anxiety 
to  me,  Ophelia,"  said  her  father,  "to  know  that  I 
could  not  provide  for  you  as  if  you  were  my  own  child, 
in  a  manner  suited  to  your  breeding  and  position,  and 
it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  see  you  placed  beyond  the 
contingencies  of  adversity.  Nevertheless  I  would  not 
urge  upon  you  an  alliance  that  is  not  entirely  congenial 
to  your  feel  ings.  Understand  that,  Ophelia.  It  is  your 
interests — your  happiness — and  not  our  own,  which  we 
wish  to  secure." 

"  I  know,  papa,"  said  Ophelia.  "  I  see  all  the  advan 
tages,  and  I  have  no  objection  to  Mr.  North,  only  I 
have  no  desire  to  marry  now.  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  people 
didn't  have  to  marry  at  all!  I  would  much  rather  be  a 
teacher,  or  something,  if  you  would  only  let  me  fit  my 
self  for  one,  mamma." 

"A  teacher,  indeed  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berges,  indig 
nantly,  "after  all  we've  done  for  you!  Such  a  life 
would  soon  wear  all  the  beauty  out  of  your  face,  and 
the  freshness  out  of  your  heart  and  mind.  Of  all  the 
occupations  in  this  life,  that  of  the  teacher  is  the  most 
wearing  upon  body  and  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  inadequately  compensated.  Only  the  phlegmatic, 
the  dull,  and  unsympathetic  are  fitted  for  teachers." 

Ophelia  cast  a  mental  retrospect,  and  took  note  that 
the  best  beloved  of  her  teachers  were  anything  but  un 
sympathetic  and  dull,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"I  tell  you,  child,"  she  continued,  "while  you  are 


94 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


young  and  fresh,  and  in  a  position  to  be  popular,  you 
had  better  accept  whatever  favor  fortune  may  bring 
you,  and  make  the  most  of  your  superior  advantages, 
which  may  not  last  always." 

There  was  sense  in  this, — homely,  practical  sense. 
If  she  was  ever  to  marry,  now,  she  supposed,  was  the 
time.  Everybody  married.  Few  escaped  the  inevitable 
fate,  and  these  paid  the  penalties  of  outlaws  and  crimi 
nals,  and  were  made  everlastingly  uncomfortable  by  the 
impertinences  of  society.  This  was  putting  it  rather 
strongly,  but  Ophelia  would  leave  no  means  unused  in 
forcing  her  will  into  alliance  with  her  duty.  She  did 
not  want  to  marry  Mr.  North, — nor  any  one ;  but  she 
felt  that  it  was  the  strong  desire  of  her  parents  that  she 
should  ;  and  the  very  fact  that  it  was  a  hard  trial  to 
her,  and  altogether  against  her  inclinations,  was  an 
argument  in  its  favor  to  a  self-abnegating  nature  such 
as  Ophelia's.  An  easy,  agreeable  path  seemed  to  her 
all  the  more  dangerous  from  the  power  with  which  it 
called  upon  the  love  of  luxury  and  ease  that  was  in 
herent  in  her  nature.  She  had  been  brought  up  in  a 
mental  atmosphere  of  theological  creeds  and  tenets. 
If  her  mind  wearied  of  dry  study,  it  might  air  itself 
upon  the  straight,  open  highway  of  catechisms,  re 
ligious  biography,  or  sacred  history.  Upon  no  account 
was  her  childish  mind  allowed  to  sport  amid  the  baleful 
beauties  of  that  debatable  land, — poesy  and  romance. 
Duty  had  been  painted  upon  her  mind  in  such  dry, 
hard,  disagreeable  colors,  that  she  could  not  have  recog 
nized  her  in  a  beautiful  and  attractive  garb. 

And  yet,  so  depraved  is  the  human  mind  that 
Ophelia  had  cherished  one  very  bright  picture, — of  a 
simple  cottage-home,  far  away  from  the  clack  of  the 
dissipated  city,  where  she  herself  was  the  chief  attrac 
tion  and  adornment.  It. had  always  been  her  desire 
to  marry  a  country  gentleman,  one  who  had  no  moneys 
to  love, — no  clubs,  no  absorbing  business  pursuits,  to 
divert  his  affections  from  her. 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE    CURRENT. 


95 


"Well,"  said  Mr.  Berges,  as  he  arose  from  the  table 
and  unfolded  the  evening  paper  preparatory  to  adjourn 
ment  to  the  sitting-room,  "study  it  all  over,  and  have 
your  mind  made  up  by  half-past  eight  this  evening,  for 
at  that  hour  he  is  coming  for  his  answer." 

"This  evening!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  in  alarm. 

"Yes,  Ophelia,"  said  mamma.  "You  have  known 
Mr.  North  a  long  time,  and  it  is  not  possible  that  you 
could  ever  discover  more  of  his  disposition  and  char 
acter  by  waiting  longer;  and  life  is  altogether  too 
short  to  be. wasted  in  deliberation." 

She  rang  the  bell  for  the  servant-girl,  and  Ophelia 
left  the  dining-room  with  a  troubled  countenance. 
When  she  had  got  into  the  hall,  some  one  touched  her 
elbow.  It  was  Walter.  His  face,  which  was  a  picture 
of  painful  anxiety,  was  slightly  smeared  with  molasses, 
and  his  pockets  were  distorted  with  apples. 

"  Sister,"  he  whispered,  "  you're  not  going  to  marry 
that  darned  old  cock-eyed  North?" 

"Walter  !   Where  did  you  learn  such  language?" 

"7V/  rather  have  cousin  Hal  a  thousand  times  over," 
continued  Walter ;  "  and  he's  got  plenty  of  money  too. 
He'd  give  you  everything  you  wanted,  and  I  don't 
believe  old  North  would." 

"Positively,  Walter,  I  won't  listen  to  such  lan 
guage." 

"Well,  he's  mean,  and  I  don't  like  him,"  pouted 
Walter. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  him,"  returned 
his  sister.  "  Some  people  do  not  sound  their  good 
deeds  abroad.  Mr.  North  is  charitable,  I  know.  You 
like  Hal  the  best  because  he  gives  you  tops  and  balls." 

Walter  was  silenced,  and  Ophelia  proceeded  up  the 
stairs  to  her  own  room,  where  she  might  settle  the 
matter  undisturbed.  But  the  more  she  thought,  the 
less  clearly  she  saw  her  way ;  and  so,  wearied  with  con 
tentions  and  utterly  desperate,  she  took  up  a  book,  and 
deferred  a  positive  decision  until  the  very  last  moment. 


96  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Books  sometimes  act  upon  the  harassed  mind  as  an 
opiate,  and  surround  and  transfuse  it  with  an  atmos 
phere  of  soothing  tranquillity,  such  as  lulled  the  lotos- 
eaters  to  drift  and  drift,  until  they  stranded  upon  that 
island  of  stagnant  calm.  Ophelia  soon  lost  all  her 
doubts  and  fears  amid  the  fascinating  pages  of  Schiller's 
"Don  Carlos,"  and  when,  at  the  appointed  hour,  she 
received  her  summons  to  the  parlor,  she  felt  careless, 
almost  indifferent,  as  to  her  future  fate. 

Mr.  North  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  Soon  light 
footsteps  were  heard  coming  down  the  stairs  and  along 
the  hall.  A  slight  timidity  mingled  with  her  usual 
dignified  carriage  as  she  entered  the  room,  and,  with  a 
careless  inclination  of  her  head,  sat  down  at  some  dis 
tance  from  him.  He  moved  his  chair  nearer  hers,  but 
did  not  take  her  hand.  His  manner,  as  he  stated  his 
desire,  and  his  arguments  in  favor  of  that  desire, — for 
a  union  with  her, — indicated  that  he  felt  himself  to  be 
engaged  upon  the  most  important  business  of  his  life. 
He  made  no  ado  about  his  affection  or  his  respect  for 
her,  but  his  manner  spoke  more  effectually  for  him. 
"And  now,"  he  concluded,  "make  haste  with  your 
answer.  Suspense  is  hard  to  endure!"  A  deep  flush 
— the  very  first  vestige  of  color  she  had  ever  seen  upon 
his  face — darkened  his  countenance. 

Ophelia  smiled  faintly.  "You  think  I  can  make 
you  happier?  You  are  sure  that  I  will  make  the  sort 
of  wife  you  want?" 

"I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  upon  that  point 
before  I  spoke  to  your  papa,"  he  replied.  "  You,  and 
no  other,  are  the  woman  I  want  for  my  wife." 

"  It  must  be  true,"  said  Ophelia.  "  You  know  that 
I  have  no  property, — nothing  but  myself." 

"I  want  only  yourself,  Ophelia.  The  property  I 
have  is  sufficient  for  both.  If  I  can  have  you,  I  shall 
want  nothing  more.  Are  you  satisfied?" 

"Oh,  yes."   .And  yet  she  hesitated. 

"Well,  do  tell  me  my  fate,  Ophelia.     What  is  it?" 


DRIFTING    WITH  THE   CURRENT. 


97 


She  had  to  be  urged,  he  saw,  or  she  would  sit  there 
all  the  evening,  hovering  over  a  final  decision. 

She  drew  a.  deep  breath.  "  I  am  yours,  Mr.  North, 
if  you  really  want  me."  She  spoke  soberly,  almost 
sadly ;  but  when  she  saw  the  sudden  light  of  pleasure, 
or  triumph,  whichever  it  was,  that  flashed  into  his  face, 
she  blushed  and  hung  her  head. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  Ophelia,"  he 
said,  smiling  brightly,  "and  much  to  be  proud  of. 
Come  and  sit  by  me,  and  tell  me  when  I  may  claim 
my  charming  little  wife.  Soon?  Very  soon?" 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  divan  and  looked  in 
tensely  relieved.  But  she  would  not  sit  by  him,  nor 
allow  him  to  take  her  hand,  or  touch  her.  Altogether 
she  was  very  unsatisfactory  this  evening.  However, 
Mr.  North  was  not  at  all  displeased  with  her  conduct. 
He  teased  her  and  amused  himself,  and  was  particularly 
delighted  when  he  could  obtain  an  indignant  glance 
from  the  shy  eyes.  Unconsciously,  he  overstayed  his 
usual  hour, — missed  hearing  the  bells, — and  altogether 
spent  an  unusually  agreeable  evening. 

"How  did  you  and  North  make  it  last  night?" 
queried  Papa  Berges  at  the  breakfast-table  next  morn 
ing. 

A  pretty  rose-tint  and  a  bright  smile  overspread 
Ophelia's  countenance,  but  immediately  died  away. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  she  replied,  demurely;  "he  seemed 
very  well  entertained,  and  is  to  take  me  out  riding  this 
afternoon." 

"That  is  right,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a 
chuckle.  "Trot  him  through  while  you've  got  the 
reins,  and  don't  be  too  easily  pleased.  He  couldn't 
possibly  exert  himself  too  much,  in  the  prospect  of 
obtaining  such  a  charming  little  wife." 

Mrs.  Berges  extended  her  congratulations,  and  Walter 
frowned  and  made  a  face  by  way  of  expressing  his  entire 
disapprobation.  "You've  treated  cqusin  Hal  doggish 
mean,"  he  muttered;,  but,  upon  being  questioned  by 


98  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

his  mamma  as  to  the  purport  of  his  remark,  said  that 
"  the  steak  was  rather  tough  this  morning." 

I  am  displeased  with  Ophelia,  John.  I  tried  to 
believe  that  she  was  too  supernaturally  wise  and 
too  transcendentally  good  to  allow  herself  to  be  per 
suaded  into  marrying  where  she  felt  no  love.  But 
Ophelia,  I  perceive,  is  made  of  the  same  ordinary 
material  of  which  the  most  of  us  are  composed.  She 
saw  comfort  in  riches,  and  misery  in  poverty,  and  had 
none  of  that  surprising  clairvoyance  which  causes  some 
gifted  heroines  to  start  back  in  horror  at  the  dreadful 
pictures  of  the  future  which  spring  to  their  view  at  the 
mere  mention  of  an  uncongenial  marriage.  Besides, 
she  had  been  taught  that  her  first  duty  was  to  please 
her  parents ;  and  really  she  felt  more  pleasure  in  their 
pleasure  than  in  her  own. 

You  would  be  surprised,  John,  to  know  how  long 
I  was  in  forming  the  acquaintance  of  these  people 
whom  you  read  so  readily ;  how  I  watched  their 
actions  and  studied  every  movement  of  their  minds; 
and  then  how  I  sometimes  judged  them  wrongfully, 
and  would  have  to  go  back  and  remodel  my  conclu 
sions. 

And  sometimes,  John,  I  feel  that  I  have  almost 
arrived  at  that  point  where  a  very  wise,  elegant,  and 
accomplished  philosopher  is  led  to  exclaim :  "  It  is  some 
time  since  the  present  writer  gave  up  the  idea  of  what 
could  be  called  understanding  any  human  being  what 
ever,  even  himself.  Every  man,  within  that  incon 
siderable  figure  of  his,  contains  a  whole  spirit, — king 
dom  and  reflex  of  the  All."  How,  then,  is  it  possible 
that  we  could  understand  ?  Yet  I  must  live  a  little 
longer,  and  learn  a  little  more,  before  I  can  comprehend 
the  full  extent  of  my  own  imbecility  and  ignorance. 


GOING  BACK.  99 


CHAPTER   XL 

GOING  BACK. 

OPHELIA  was  engaged  at  last.  No  one  seemed  sur 
prised,  though  she  was  surprised  herself.  It  did  not 
strike  her  -how  lucky  she  had  been  in  securing  such  a 
prize  until  her  friends  began  to  look  envious.  Then 
she  began  to  think  she  should  have  been  very  foolish 
indeed  to  have  rejected  such  wonderful  good  fortune. 
Yet  she  was  no  happier  than  before  ;  nay,  not  as  happy. 
Her  freedom  was  gone,  and  she  had  gained  nothing  in 
recompense. 

Her  affianced  was  very  kind  to  her.  He  petted  and 
spoiled  her ;  gave  her  jewels  and  costly  trinkets,  but 
not  one  inch  of  his  heart.  Had  he  a  heart?  If  he 
had,  she  knew  naught  of  it.  Was  this  love  ?  she 
wondered,  with  a  sinking  heart.  If  so,  then  truly  there 
was  nothing  new  under  the  sun ;  yet  he  had  strange 
power  over  her  :  a  magnetic,  arbitrary  power,  which 
bent  her  will  to  his,  though  it  did  not  diminish  that 
indefinable  feeling  of  distance,  which  must  always 
exist  in  a  close  alliance  of  unsuited  natures. 

He  was  a  very  grave  man, — enthusiastic  upon  but 
one  subject,  and  that  a  subject  totally  uninteresting  to 
Ophelia, — money-making.  Her  vagrant  impulses  of 
mirth,  her  humorous  sallies  and  flashes  of  merriment, 
received  sudden  check  from  the  cold,  reproving  silence 
with  which  he  received  them ;  and  soon  she  too  be 
came  as  staid  and  dignified  as  he  could  wish.  All  her 
gentle  gayety  disappeared;  she  lost  her  interest  in 
society,  though  she  dutifully  accompanied  him  to  opera, 
party,  and  ball  whenever  he  required  it  of  her.  She 
seemed  to  have  retired  within  herself,  there  to  wrestle 


I0o  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

with  her  perplexed  and  mutinous  thoughts.  But,  from 
her  quiet  countenance,  no  one  could  tell  of  the  seditious 
movements  going  on  within. 

In  this  alliance  she  felt  no  accession  of  strength. 
He  was  a  strong  man,  and  for  all  their  uncongeniality 
might  have  made  her  happy,  but  he  mistook  the  pur 
pose  of  strength,  and  misused  it  in  triumph  and  em 
pire, — in  bringing  whatever  he  would  under  his  own 
control  and  binding  it  to  his  own  will.  There  were 
no  bonds  of  sympathy  or  affection  in  this  union ;  only 
the  pride  of  possession  upon  one  side  and  the  con 
sciousness  of  filial  obedience  upon  the  other. 

There  were  not  many  sensitive  chords  in  Mr.  North's 
nature,  therefore  he  felt  none  of  Ophelia's  misgivings 
in  regard  to  their  future.  All  the  strength  and  vigor 
of  his  mind  were  absorbed  in  business  pursuits ;  in  her 
society  he  sought  only  for  rest  and  amusement.  He 
liked  the  sound  of  her  low,  musical  voice,  though  he 
paid  little  heed  to  what  it  said ;  he  liked  to  hear  her 
intricate  reveries  and  nocturnes,  though  he  could  not 
distinguish  one  from  another;  and  more  than  all  he 
liked  the  flush  and  tremor,  and  pretty  droop  of  the 
long  dark  lashes,  which  accompanied  his  lightest  caress 
or  tender  word.  Her  reserve  did  not  seriously  disturb 
him.  "  Some  day,  when  I  have  the  legal  right,  I  can 
dispel  some  of  this  frigid  reserve,"  he  thought,  "and 
then  I  shall  have  a  wife  as  affectionate  and  loving  as 
she  is  obedient  and  kind." 

He  meant  to  make  a  pet  of  her.  He  desired  that  she 
should  be  deeply  attached  to  him,  for  his  own  comfort 
and  pleasure.  But  of  that  profound  and  illimitable 
passion,  for  which  she  unconsciously  sighed,  he  was 
entirely  incapable.  As  well  expect  nourishing  fruits 
from  the  sterile  llanos,  as  a  noble  passion  from  a  sordid 
heart.  That  life  which  is  spent  in  unremitting  toil  for 
gold, — that  has  had  no  higher  ambition,  no  nobler  pleas 
ure  than  money-getting, — has  filled  a  small,  small  circuit. 
The  contemplation  of  ignoble  things  belittles  the  soul. 


GOING  BACK.  IOI 

For  a  better  comprehension  of  this  character,  let  us 
go  back  a  few  years  (though,  as  a  general  thing,  I  dis 
like  to  retrograde).  But  the  primary  elements  and 
moulding  influences  of  childhood  oftentimes  contain 
the  germ  of  one's  predestined  course,  therefore  should 
not  be  overlooked. 

Oliver  North  was  about  eleven  years  of  age  when  he, 
in  company  with  his  grandmother,  came  to  the  city  of 
L and  took  up  his  abode  in  a  back  room  of  a  third- 
class  boarding-house.  From  what  portion  of  the  globe 
they  "hailed"  no  one  knew  or  cared.  Oliver  was  a 
"good  boy," — that  is,  he  molested  no  one;  and  the 
ancient  dame  was  a  "  hard  case," — judging  from  the 
hard  face  and  restless,  glittering  eye.  Though  appa 
rently  very  aged,  there  was  no  sign  of  decrepitude 
about  her;  her  movements  were  quick  and  her  voice 
clear  and  shrill. 

The  day  following  her  arrival,  she  took  her  grand 
son  and  canvassed  the  city  for  a  suitable  business  "  en 
gagement"  for  the  lad.  He  was  a  shrewd,  capable- 
looking  boy,  and  she  finally  procured  him  a  lucrative 
and  promising  position  as  "cash  boy"  in  one  of  the 
principal  dry  goods  establishments,  with  promise  of  pro 
motion,  provided  he  should  prove  satisfactory.  He 
never  changed  his  position,  save  to  move  up  higher. 

They  seemed  very  fond  of  each  other,  these  two 
old  young  people, — childish  alike  in  talk,  old  alike  in 
ways.  Oliver  never  played  with  other  boys  on  the 
street,  and  always  took  every  cent  of  his  wages  home  to 
his  grandmother,  who  locked  it  up  in  a  strong-box. 
They  counted  it(  over  every  night,  and  talked  about 
what  it  would  buy,  though  they  never  bought  anything  ; 
for  they  lived  on  nothing,  figuratively  speaking,  and 
Oliver's  clothes  were  furnished  him  by  his  employers, 
who  had  heard  that  the  frugal  boy  supported  his  aged 
grandparent  on  his  wages. 

Oliver  was  not  unlike  other  boys  in  his  tastes,  and 
often  longed  for  tops  and  balls ;  but  when  he  begged 


102  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

them  of  his  grandmother,  that  shrewd  old  lady  in 
vented  an  imaginary  history  of  the  toy,  from  its  at 
tractive  new  state  in  the  shop,  down,  down, — growing 
older  and  more  defaced, — until  its  dark  and  dismal 
end  ;  and  the  boy's  wish  ended  with  the  imaginary  fate 
of  the  plaything. 

And  then  the  castles  the  old  woman  would  build,  of 
nights ! — the  splendid  golden  dreams  that  were  to  be 
realized  by  hoarding,  hoarding  every  cent.  If  the  boy 
pined  for  a  holiday,  the  pictures  of  the  golden  future 
urged  him  to  his  toil.  He  must  not  wa^te  a  single 
hour.  He  must  be  industrious,  obliging,  attentive, 
that  he  might  ingratiate  himself  with  his  employers, 
who  Mrs.  North  had  taken  care  should  be  sensible, 
generous  men, — and  thereby  rise.  And  rise  he  did, 
according  to  his  deserts,  rapidly. 

"If  I  had  been  a  man,"  the  old  lady  would  say,  "  I 
should  now  be  living  in  a  palace,  courted  and  envied, 
instead  of  neglected  and  scorned ;  but  being  a  woman, 
I  had  few  chances  for  making  money,  and  none  to 
save.  I  was  not  allowed  here,  I  was  not  wanted  there  ; 
and  where  I  was  allowed  or  wanted,  was  but  half  paid 
for  my  services.  And  then  what  I  did  earn  the  men 
who  had  power  over  me — my  father,  then  my  husband, 
and  even  my  own  sons — had  the  power  to  spend  at  their 
pleasure.  But  you,  Oliver,  are  your  own  master,  and 
can  save  without  fear  of  having  it  taken  from  you. 
Money  is  the  master-power  of  the  world.  Get  money, 
and  you  will  have  the  world  prostrate  at  your  feet." 

With  this  vision  constantly  before  his  eyes,  Oliver, 
with  a  practical  and  energetic  mind,  and  acquisitive 
ness  naturally  large,  bent  every  faculty  to  that  one  pur 
pose, — getting  money.  His  evenings  were  spent  in 
study  under  the  tuition  of  his  grandmother,  who,  though 
no  liberal  scholar,  was  thorough  in  all  the  common 
branches,  including  book-keeping. 

He  was  just  nineteen,  and  still  the  confidant  and 
cherished  friend  of  his  aged  relative,  when  one  summer 


GOING  BACK. 


103 


night  the  old  lady  arrayed  herself  in  funereal  garb, 
folded  her  hands  resignedly,  and  without  complaint  or 
demur  set  out  upon  her  last  long  journey.  Having  set 
her  mind  at  rest  by  precautionary  measures  for  pre 
venting  extra  funeral  expenses,  let  us  hope  that  she 
found  no  disturbing  causes  when  she  arrived  upon  "  the 
other  shore."  Her  body  was  deposited  in  a  cheap 
burial-ground,  of  which  the  next  irreverent  generation, 
mayhap,  will  construct  a  park,  and  grow  trees  out  of  the 
sacred  dust.  Her  soul,  for  aught  I  know,  may  have 
entered  upon  an  illimitable  field  of  gold,  there  to  find 
an  unending  occupation  in  gathering  the  shining  metal 
into  a.  boundless  "  strong-box,"  according  to  her  pleas 
ure  upon  this  earth.  No  one  thought  it  worth  while 
to  examine  into  Mrs.  North's  affairs  except  her  grand 
son,  who  found  himself  the  legal  possessor  of  some  six 
or  eight  thousand  dollars,  the  existence  of  which  she 
had  concealed,  even  from  him.  Was  the  youthful  heir 
surprised  and  elated  over  his  good  fortune?  Not  he. 
He  had  expected  it,  and  had  long  ago  disposed  of  the 
money  in  his  own  mind.  He  was  now  book-keeper  in 
the  establishment  where  he  had  begun  as  "cash  boy"  ; 
and  he  took  the  money  along  with  his  own  hoarded 
earnings,  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the  firm, — in 
dicating  his  desire  to  become  a  silent  partner.  The 
firm  welcomed  him  and  his  money,  and  at  twenty-one 
the  partnership  was  publicly  acknowledged.  At  the 
present  time  he  is,  perhaps,  twice  that  age,  owner  of 
the  whole  "concern,"  also  of  a  handsome  residence  in 
the  most  fashionable  portion  of  the  city,  and  accounted 
one  of  the  nabobs  ot  L . 

Is  the  nabob  any  happier  than  was  the  cash  boy? 

"  There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing ; 
there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath  great  riches. ' ' 

Once  his  heart  had  asserted  its  humanity,  and  had 
struggled  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  servitude  and  live 
for  nobler  purposes.  A  happy  home,  a  loving  and 
beloved  wife,  and  a  useful  and  unselfish  life  were  pre- 


104  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

sented  for  his  acceptance.  But  that  was  at  an  early 
stage  of  his  career.  The  lady  of  his  love  was  poor; 
his  foot  was  but  upon  the  first  rounds  of  the  ladder  he 
had  resolved  to  climb ;  how  could  he  go  up  with  a 
family  dragging  at  his  heels  ?  So  he  shunned  the  woman 
who  had  inspired  a  wish  for  nobler  aims,  turned  his 
attention  more  unweariedly  than  ever  to  business  pur 
suits,  and  speedily  recovered  from  the  inopportune 
attack.  Domestic  felicity  was  not  necessary  to  his 
happiness.  Money  stood  him  in  stead  of  a  household. 
But  his  position  demanded  that  he  should  marry.  His 
house  needed  a  mistress,  and  sharp  rivalry  had  excited 
a  sort  of  feeling  in  his  heart :  he  supposed  it  to  be  love. 
At  least  he  found  himself  more  anxious  on  the  subject 
than  he  had  been  on  any  subject  not  connected  with 
business  for  a  long  time. 

Hal  Ripley,  returning  from  a  little  pleasure  expedition 
to  a  neighboring  city,  was  greeted  with  the  news  of 
Ophelia's  engagement.  He  was  incredulous.  But  re 
peated  assurances  at  length  had  their  effect.  Ophelia  was 
in  the  sitting-room  frowning  over  her  embroidery,  when 
his  quick,  impatient  step  fell  upon  her  ear.  He  slammed 
the  gate  and  came  up  the  walk  and  into  the  hall;  at  the 
door  he  paused. 

"Come  in,  Hal,"  said  Ophelia.  Her  face  bright 
ened  and  the  frown  vanished,  though  Hal  at  that  mo 
ment  was  not  an  object  to  dispel  gloomy  thoughts. 
The  dark  cloud  upon  his  handsome  face  obstinately 
refused  to  vanish  beneath  Ophelia's  smiles.  She  was 
not  slow  in  guessing  the  cause,  but  trusted  to  her  in 
fluence  to  reconcile  him  to  the  new  state  of  things. 

"Is  all  this  true,  Ophelia,"  he  said,  "that  I  hear 
about  you  and  North?" 

"What  have  you  heard,  Hal?" 

"Are  you  unaware  of  the  chief  topic  of  the  day — 
that  you  and  North  are  engaged?" 

"Oh,  that,"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  readily.  "Yes,  Hal, 


GOING  BACK.  105 

it  is  true ;  but  it  is  very  absurd  of  them  to  be  making 
a  '  to  do"  over  it.  Engagements  are  very  common  and 
ordinary  affairs." 

"Is  this  your  engagement-ring?"  he  inquired,  taking 
her  hand  and  pretending  to  examine  the  cluster  of  dia 
monds  that  glittered  upon  it. 

"Yes,"  returned  Ophelia.     "Is  it  not  pretty?" 

Before  she  was  aware  of  what  he  was  about,  he  had 
snatched  the  ring  from  her  finger  and  thrown  it  into  the 
street.  "There  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  intense  passion. 
"You  shall  never  marry  that  scoundrel !  I'll  murder 
him  first !" 

The  ring  struck  upon  the  iron  railing,  bounded  upon 
the  pavement  and  rolled  into  the  gutter. 

"Hal  Ripleyl'I  think  you  are  beside  yourself!" 
exclaimed  Ophelia,  indignantly. 

She  called  the  servant-girl  and  both  went  out  to 
search  for  it.  Carrie  finally  mopped  it  out  of  the 
gutter,  and  Ophelia  went  back  into  the  house  highly 
incensed.  But  she  gave  no  sign  of  it  except  by  a 
heightened  color  and  more  formal  bearing. 

"  Ophelia,"  said  Hal,  made  penitent  by  her  forbear 
ance,  "you  ought  to  be  able  to  forgive  me  anything. 
You  know  what  misery  this  is  to  me.  Why  did  you 
let  me  go  on  loving  you,  harder  and  harder,  when  you 
knew  how  it  would  end  ?  Was  that  kind  ?' ' 

"  I  did  not  know  any  more  than  you,  Hal,  and  I  am 
not  to  blame.  I  thought  you  were  only  amusing  your 
self,  as  plenty  of  others  do." 

"Amusing  myself!"  he  exclaimed.  "Ophelia,  I 
sometimes  think  you  an  angel,  but  there  are  times 
when  I  have  glimpses  of  a  nature  as  far  from  perfec 
tion  as  any  of  us.  You  either  deceive  yourself,  or 
you  try  to  deceive  me.  You  knew  that  I  loved  you, 
and  took  no  pains  to  prevent  it." 

Ophjlia  made  no  further  defense ;  and  Hal,  looking 
into  the  gentle  countenance,  and  perceiving  there  were 
tears  underneath  the  drooping  lashes,  was  again  stricken 
E* 


106  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

with  remorse.  "  There  !  do  not  trouble  yourself,  Ophe 
lia  !  I  should  not  have  said  that." 

"But  I  deserve  it,  Hal.  I  know  that  I  am  wicked 
and  heedless,  and  anything  but  the  angel  I  am  taken 
to  be." 

Sometimes  Ophelia  was  startled  with  a  sudden  per 
ception  of  her  own  exceeding  sinfulness,  which,  a  few 
times  in  her  life,  had  struck  upon  her  consciousness 
with  shocking  distinctness, — tearing  away  the  veil  that 
had  concealed  from  her  own  view,  as  well  as  others, 
her  real  self. 

"  If  you  are  not  good  and  pure,"  said  Hal,  "no  one 
is.  It  was  harsh  and  unjust  in  me  to  say  that.  You 
are  as  near  an  angel  as  /  ever  care  to  see  :  too  good,  a 
million  times,  for  that  villain  North'.  He  would  sell 
his  soul  for  money,  if  he  could.  Only  a  week  ago  he 
kindly  reminded  me  that  you  were  penniless.  I  would 
rather  see  you  dead  than  married  to  that  unprincipled 
scoundrel !" 

Ophelia  rose  with  heightened  color.  "I  cannot  stay 
here  and  listen  to  such  talk,  so  you  will  have  to  excuse 
me,  Hal." 

She  swept  haughtily  out  of  the  room.  But,  out  of 
sight,  she  wept  bitter  tears, — as  much  for  herself  as  for 
Hal. 

That  evening  Mr.  North  urged  her  to  specify  a  definite 
time  for  their  marriage  to  take  place. 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  haste,"  replied  Ophelia. 
"  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  assume  the  fetters,  and  court 
ship,  they  say,  is  the  happiest  period  of  one's  life. 
Then  why  not  prolong  it  ?' ' 

But  Mr.  North  might  have  truthfully  said  that  it  was 
not  particularly  jubilant  to  him,  nor  did  she  appear  to 
be  excessively  happy ;  but  he  preferred  a  more  promis 
ing  course  than  arguing  with  an  "unreasonable  little 
dunce."  as  he  mentally  styled  his  affianced,  and  again 
v  4  had  recourse  to  his  influence  with  her  parents. 

But  these  unreasonable  people,  though  they  were  will- 


GOING  BACK. 


107 


ing  enough  to  have  her  safely  engaged  to  a  fortune,  were 
in  no  hurry  to  part  with  their  daughter. 

I  am  tired  of  these  people  now,  John,  and  am  going 
to  amuse  myself  awhile,  talking  to  you.  How  glad  I 
am  that  I  called  you  into  my  sanctum,  instead  of  relating 
my  story  to  a  variable  and  clamorous  public  ! 

"  Speak  not  to  me  of  yonder  motley  masses, 
Whom  but  to  see  puts  out  the  fire  of  song ! 
Hide  from  my  view  the  surging  crowd  that  passes, 
And,  in  its  whirlpool,  forces  us  along  I" 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  you  there  by  the  open 
window,  through  which  sometimes  floats  the  fragrance 
of  the  blossoms,  or  ripening  fruit  of  a  wide-spread 
orchard,  and  sometimes  the  clack  and  clamor  of  a  busy 
city  ! — for,  whether  in  town  or  country,  it  is  always 
balmy  weather.  Your  frown  and  your  frank  fault 
finding  are  better  to  me  than  the  plaudits  of  a  multi 
tude.  But  ah,  your  smile  !  if,  perchance,  some  prin 
ciple  advanced,  some  thought  portrayed,  or  some 
portrait  sketched,  meets  your  approbation.  That  smile, 
so  full  of  generous  sympathy, — no  half-way,  lukewarm, 
cold-blooded  stingy  sympathy,  half  made  up  of  indif 
ference,  which  must  needs  calculate  and  be  sure  that 
one's  merits  quite  reach  up  to  the  standard  mark, — says 
that  you  find  somewhat  to  commend  in  my  story,  for  all 
its  faults.  And  so  I  am  content  to  be  just  as  the  good 
Lord  made  me,  and  do  not  pine  and  sigh  for  more 
brilliant  qualities,  wherewith  to  startle  a  world. 

Of  course  there  are  people  who  will  carp  and  cavil  at 
all  I  have  to  say,  but  I  am  not  talking  to  those  people, 
John  ;  only  you,  who  have  some  tender  chords  in  your 
heart  that  I  want  to  reach, — chords  that  cannot  be 
touched  too  often  nor  kept  thrilling  too  long,  in  this 
rusty,  soul-benumbing  life  of  ours. 


io8  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE   BEGINNING  WHICH   HAS   NO    ENDING. 

THE  summer  exodus  had  begun.  The  theatre  had 
closed.  The  city  looked  deserted  and  dull,  for  its 
pleasure-seekers  had  scattered  abroad  to  the  springs  or 
rural  districts,  and  there  were  none  left  but  plain,  plod 
ding,  matter-of-fact  citizens. 

"It  is  time  that  we  were  flitting,"  said  Mrs.  Berges. 

"Yes,"  returned  her  husband,  "Ophelia  looks  deli 
cate.  We  must  take  her  some  place.  Where  do  you 
want  to  go,  Ophelia, — east?" 

"No,"  said  Ophelia;  "if  you  and  mamma  would 
like  it  as  well,  I  should  prefer  one  of  our  own  springs, 
— Crab  Orchard,  for  instance." 

"And  North  would  like  that,"  said  Mr.  Berges;  "I 
observe  he  cares  little  about  traveling." 

"I  prefer  that  Mr.  North  should  stay  at  home," 
pouted  Ophelia;  "I  should  like  a  little  breath  of  free 
dom  before  I  am  tied  down  for  life." 

"Well,  well, — just  as  you  like,"  returned  the  old 
gentleman.  "  North  can  stay  at  home, — if  he  will;  I 
can  do  without  him,  I  am  sure." 

In  a  couple  of  weeks  from  that  time  the  Bergeses 
were  registered  at  Crab  Orchard  and  comfortably 
installed  in  commodious  apartments.  Ophelia  thought 
the  place  a  little  dull  this  season.  There  were  plenty 
of  people, — nice,  cultivated  people,  and  silly,  fashion 
able  people,  and  people  of  various  descriptions;  but 
Ophelia  found  it  impossible  to  become  interested  in 
any  of  them.  She  had  brought  a  small  library  along, 
and  so  she  spent  the  most  of  her  time  in  the  parlor,  or 
upon  the  veranda,  reading. 


THE  BEGINNING    WHICH  HAS  NO  ENDING. 


109 


One  morning  she  sat  upon  a  divan  by  an  open 
window, — where  a  light  breeze  came  in  and  fanned 
her  blonde  hair  about, — with  a  balmy  look  of  delight 
upon  her  countenance  which  showed  her  utterly  absorbed 
in  her  book  and  oblivious  of  all  outward  things.  Then 
why  did  she  suddenly  look  up  as  some  one  entered  the 
room  ?— one  of  a  hundred  who  had  come  and  gone  that 
morning,  unnoticed  by  her. 

She  did  not  know, — nor  do  I ;  but  it  is  certain  that 
she  did  look  up, — not  carelessly,  but  with  an  intensity 
of  interest  that  was  only  equaled  —  nay,  surpassed — 
by  that  of  the  keen  dark  eyes  which  met  her  own.  The 
room  was  not  shaded  ;  the  morning  light  was  clear,  and 
the  tall,  erect  figure,  which  stood  for  a  moment  in  the 
doorway,  was  vividly  outlined.  Not  many  would  have 
been  deeply  impressed  with  this  person,  who,  according 
to  popular  taste,  was  neither  handsome  nor  graceful ; 
but  Ophelia  was  impressed  as  she  had  never  been,  in 
all  her  life,  before. 

"  How  he  could  love  !"  was  her  first  thought ;  "  and 
endure,  and  suffer,  and  be  strong  !"  were  after-thoughts. 

He  seemed  well  known  to  the  other  occupants  of  the 
room,  and  answered  the  bows,  right  and  left,  with  a 
satirical  profundity  that  was  assumed,  perhaps,  to  hide 
some  deeper  feeling.  He  seemed  to  endure  rather 
than  enjoy  the  attention  of  which  he  was  at  that 
moment  the  recipient.  Carelessly  disposing  himself  in 
the  first  vacant  chair,  he  immediately  commenced  a  con 
versation  with  the  lady  in  whose  neighborhood  he  found 
himself.  The  young  lady,  whose  countenance  might  pre 
viously  have  adorned  an  effigy  o£  Despair,  as  she  sat,  list 
less  and  unnoticed  against  the  wall,  began  to  brighten. 

Ophelia  returned  her  attention  to  her  book,  with 
vague  feelings  of  mistrust,  or  fear,  or — she  knew  not 
what !— and  resolutely  kept  it  there.  She  was  not  sorry 
when  papa  came  in,  mopping  his  face  with  a  handker 
chief,  and  congratulating  himself  that  he  had  at  last 
found  a  place  that  was  not  like  a  bakeoven. 
10 


HO  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

"  I  have  just  met  with  the  son  of  an  old,  old  friend, 
— Kingsley.  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  Kingsley? 
— a  high-toned  Southern  gentleman,  imperious  and 
self-willed,  but  a  more  generous  and  warm-hearted 
gentleman  never  lived  ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  his  son  is 
a  'chip  of  the  old  block.'  Poor  Kingsley!  his  stub 
born  will  was  the  ruin  of  him.  He  became  involved 
in  a  lawsuit,  and  died  suddenly  from  apoplexy,  caused 
by  violent  grief  and  resentment,  when  the  suit  went 
against  him.  His  son  has  been  reared  in  luxury  and 
indolence,  and  is  but  little  fitted  for  the  battle  with 
adverse  fate  which  lies  before  him." 

"Is  he  poor?  Then  what  is  he  doing  here?"  inquired 
Ophelia,  idly. 

"  He  is  a  reporter.  Why,  bless  me,  there  he  is  now  ! 
Looking  straight  over  here,  too  !  Shall  I  bring  him 
over?" 

He  was  gone,  on  the  instant;  and  in  one  minute  more 
Ophelia  was  acknowledging  an  introduction  to  the  tall 
stranger.  It  was  a  true  instinct  that  gave  her  a  strong 
desire  to  leave  the  spot,  and  get  away,  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  influence.  But  then  she  did  not  understand  its 
purport, — and  so  she  fought  against  it,  and  remained. 
And  thus,  carelessly  and  unexpectedly,  drifted  into  her 
life  one  who  was  to  change  its  whole  current. 

For  once  Ophelia  lacked  repose  of  manner.  Her 
color  rose  and  swept  across  her  face,  then  receded  and 
left  it  pale.  Again  and  again  it  rose  and  fell,  and  a 
strange,  disturbed  sensation  crept  over  her.  She  looked 
at  him  with  wonder,  for  she  was  conscious  that  these 
feelings  proceeded  from  some  intensely  sympathetic  or 
magnetic  power  in  him,  and  not  from  any  thoughts  of 
her  own.  It  was  a  totally  unexpected  and  unwelcome 
influx  of  feeling,  and  both  frightened  and  angered  her. 
Yet  it  was  not  so  strange  as  Ophelia  thought.  Her 
unsatisfactory  engagement  had  awakened  into  conscious 
ness  the  deep  desire  for  a  profound  and  infinite  passion, 
possible  only  to  heroic  souls,  and  inherent  within  all 


THE  BEGINNING    WHICH  HAS  NO  ENDING,    m 

noble  natures.  That,  in  the  first  deep  glance  of  this 
stranger,  she  had  a  glimpse  of  what  she  so  earnestly 
desired, — the  entire  hopelessness  of  ever  appropriating 
the  coveted  prize, — together  with  the  mysterious  mag 
netism  which  forced  her  will  into  subjection,  and  made 
her,  against  her  wish,  the  recipient  of  his  admiration, 
— all  combined  to  agitate  and  thoroughly  overwhelm  a 
naturally  calm  and  self-poised  nature. 

•Ophelia  took  but  little  part  in  the  conversation,  until 
Mrs.  Berges  entered  the  room,  and,  with  a  keen,  dis 
approving  glance  at  Kingsley,  called  her  husband  away ; 
when  she  was  forced  to  look  at  him,  and  talk  to  him, 
and  to.be  deeply  interested. 

"When  I  was  over  there,"  he  said,  "picturing  to 
myself  the  sort  of  young  lady  I  fancied  you  to  be,  I 
did  not  dream  that  I  should  so  soon  have  an  opportu 
nity  for  finding  out.  Your  father  tells  me  that  you  are 
likely  to  remain  here  some  time." 

"What  sort  of  a  person  did  you  fancy  I  might  be?" 
inquired  Ophelia. 

"  Oh,  a  sort  of  '  Marianne  in  the  moated  Grange,' — 
wearied  unto  death  of  the  spirit-solitude  which  she  was 
forced  to  endure." 

He  did  not  seem  to  consider  that  he  had  said  anything 
unusual,  until  she  colored,  and  looked  a  little  vexed, 
— when  he  seemed  greatly  amused,  and  continued, — 

"You  are  not  a  contented  young  lady,  for  all  you 
look  so  serene.  The  calm  exists  only  on  the  surface. 
I  should  say  you  were  heart-hungry." 

"You  mean  that  I  am  in  love  with  no  one,  I  pre 
sume,"  she  said,  half  displeased. 

"It  cannot  be  possible  that  you  love  any  one,"  he 
gallantly  returned,  "  for  in  that  case  you  would,  most 
assuredly,  be  deeply  beloved  in  return.  And  your  face 
tells  me  that  you  have  no  such  heart-absorbent." 

He  looked  at  her  and  talked  to  her  as  if  she  were 
something  new  and  strange, — a  study  interesting  and 
abstruse : 


II2  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

"  A  language  dead,  a  scription 
On  tablets  in  the  sea." 

Their  minds  had  been  trained  in  diverse  schools, — 
he  amid  books  and  solitude, — she  among  people,  crowds 
of  people.  And  yet  there  must  have  been  a  similarity 
of  thought  and  feeling,  for  already  a  strong  confidence 
had  sprung  up  between  them.  I  have  said  that  he  was  not 
handsome,  but  his  features  were  refined,  though  not 
regular,  and  had  a  singularly  pure,  spiritual  expression. 
A  face  that  was  pale  and  a  little  worn,  a  smooth  and 
somewhat  prominent  forehead,  clouded  with  a  mass 
of  fine,  dark-brown  hair;  a  good  mouth,  though  not 
too  small,  and  eyes — but  what  use  to  describe  eyes 
that  are  changeable?  When  he  first  entered  the  room 
they  were  a  vivid  black, — a  light  sprang  into  them,  and 
they  were  brown  and  lambent, — and  now  that  she  had 
a  nearer  view  of  them,  she  perceived  that  they  were 
gray,  dark  and  deep,  with  an  amber  light  irradiating 
about  the  pupil,  brightening  and  darkening  according 
to  each  varying  emotion. 

Ophelia  turned  the  conversation  upon  religious  topics. 
Why  she  could  not  tell,  but  she  felt  an  immediate 
and  overpowering  desire  that  he  should  be  good,  that 
his  precious  soul  should  be  saved.  She  awoke  from  her 
lethargy,  and  spoke  with  unwonted  fervor  of  the  Father's 
compassion,  the  children's  disobedience,  and  of  the 
beauty  of  self-sacrifice  and  religious  devotion. 

"Religion,"  he  returned,  in  a  sarcastic  tone,  "has 
become  a  matter  of  vast  piles  of  brick  and  stone,  of  fine 
discourses  and  comfortable  pews.  I  can  imbibe  good  only 
from  good  people.  Whatever  of  good  there  is  in  me — • 
if  there  should  chance  to  be  any — I  owe  to  the  influence 
of  a  Christian  mother.  The  evil  is  a  natural  product  of 
a  redundant  and  uncultivated  soil.  I  look  forward  to  the 
assistance  of  a  pious  wife  for  the  eradication  of  that." 

Again  that  slight  pink  flush  mounted  to  her  cheek, 
and  again  he  smiled  and  looked  amused.  "A  com 
modious  field,  you  were  thinking?" 


THE  BEGINNING    WHICH  HAS  NO  ENDING.    n3 

"No,"  she  returned;  "you  do  not  look  so  very 
wicked." 

He  expressed  his  happiness  in  her  good  opinion,  and 
his  regret  that  he  did  not  truly  deserve  it. 

"You  overlook  the  Bible,"  she  said,  at  length;  "does 
its  influence  go  for  nothing  in  your  estimation?" 

"  I  never  read  it,"  he  replied. 

Ophelia  looked  startled  at  this  cool  confession.  Not 
read  the  Bible  !  Why,  the  man  was  upon  the  very  high 
road  to  destruction,  with  no  saving  power  within  his 
reach  !  She  must  be  good  to  him, — she  must  strive 
to  establish  an  influence  over  him,  so  that  she  might 
lead  him  into  the  right  way.  And  so  the  matter  was 
settled.  She  gave  up  the  idea  of  shunning  him.  He 
always  found  her  ready  for  a  conversation,  for  reading, 
a  walk,  or  anything  that  he  wished ;  and,  in  return,  he 
submitted  to  her  lectures,  and  made  profuse  promises 
toward  growing  pious  and  good. 

Crab  Orchard  revived.  Really,  it  was  the  most  in 
teresting  place  Ophelia  had  ever  visited.  Such  pleasant 
parlors,  such  shady  walks,  and  such  interesting  people. 
She  gave  up  her  books,  only  when  Kingsley  read  to 
her,  and  it  was  very  singular  that  he  should  select  just 
such  books  as  she  liked  best ;  impassioned  books,  such 
as  speak  to  the  higher  understanding,  arouse  the  genial 
emotions,  awaken  affinities  and  lull  repulsions ;  books 
which  bring  to  light  one's  better  nature  and  inspire 
that  feeling  of  common  brotherhood  with  the  whole 
human  race.  She  had  been  taught  that  time  spent  upon 
such  books  was  totally  lost,  and  felt  relieved  to  find  her 
taste  shared  by  so  brilliant  a  mind. 

What  a  friend  Ophelia  had  found  !  Her  whole  nature 
seemed  to  be  awakening  from  a  repose  as  deep  and 
lethargic  as  that  of  the  Lady  Gwynneth  in  her  enchanted 
castle.  Now  she  began  to  live.  She  watched  the  de 
velopment  of  this  new  life  with  analytic  coolness.  Her 
emotions,  she  observed,  were  under  his  control,  and 
progressed  in  the  proportion  of  his.  Any  new  access 


H4  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

of  feeling  was  experienced  first  by  him,  and  thereby 
transferred  to  her  own  heart.  It  was  love,  but  uncon 
scious;  for  love,  so  long  as  it  exists  only  in  thought,  is 
a  dream  :  a  dream  that  may  haunt  the  memory  a  life- 
•  time,  but  still  a  dream.  Love,  however  much  we  may 
have  studied  it  from  books  or  people,  always  comes  to 
us  a  mystery  and  a  surprise. 

And  were  papa  and  mamma  as  blind  to  the  true  state 
of  the  matter  as  their  daughter?  The  old  gentleman 
was  innocently  oblivious.  Ophelia  was  engaged, — her 
word  of  honor  given  to  another  man, — that  settled  it  in 
his  mind.  Of  course  she  would  never  be  such  a  fool 
as  to  fall  in  love  with  one  whom  she  could  not  marry. 
Besides,  Kingsley  had  nothing — absolutely  nothing — 
except  his  reporter's  salary,  which  every  one  knew  was 
not  munificent,  and  the  wealthy  and  respectable  whole 
sale  merchant  was  not  one  to  be  lightly  set  aside,  nor 
to  be  set  aside  at  all.  Even  these  slight  reflections  had 
but  a  vague  existence  in  Mr.  Herges's  mind,  so  unimpor 
tant  did  the  matter  seem.  Ophelia  was  regaining  her 
health,  and  he  saw  nothing  to  be  disturbed  about. 

But  mamma's  keen  gray  eyes  had  not  been  idle  all 
this  time,  Mrs.  Berges  comprehended  the  situation 
thoroughly  from  the  first.  She  did  not  interfere,  be 
cause  the  time  for  interference  had  not  yet  arrived. 
To  warn  Ophelia  would  only  open  her  eyes  and  make 
altogether  too  serious  a  matter  of  it.  When  the  need 
ful  time  had  elapsed,  she  dropped  North  a  friendly  little 
note,  inviting  him  to  come  down  and  spend  a  few  days 
with  them.  Not  a  hint  as  to  the  true  reason  of  her 
desire  for  his  presence,  but  rather  an  intimation  point 
ing  in  another  direction  :  "  I  am  sure  Ophelia  misses 
you,"  wrote  the  diplomat,  "though  she  would  not  own 
it  for  the  world." 

In  the  mean  time  she  did  not  scruple  to  make  her 
disapproval  and  mistrust  known  to  its  object, — not  to 
Ophelia ;  that  would  not  fail  to  arouse  her  sense  of 
justice  and  call  forth  a  stronger  sympathy  for  her  mis- 


THE  BEGINNING    WHICH  HAS  NO  ENDING.    115 

used  friend.  She  never  allowed  an  opportunity  to 
escape  for  making  the  sensitive  young  Southerner  as  un 
comfortable  as  possible.  The  result  was  that  he  hated 
Mrs.  Berges  and  ignored  her  presence,  whenever  that 
was  possible. 

In  the  third  week  of  their  stay  at  Crab  Orchard, 
Ophelia  received  a  note  from  her  affianced,  with  whom 
she  had  kept  up  a  dry  correspondence,  containing  the 
pleasing  intelligence  that  he  would  be  with  her  that 
very  evening. 

"Oh,  dear,"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  to  her  mamma,  "I 
wish  he  would  stay  at  home  !  /should  have  waited  for 
an  invitation,  I  think." 

"It  is  only  natural  that  he  should  want  to  see  you 
once  in  awhile,"  returned  Mrs.  Berges;  "and  it  is  cruel 
of  you,  Ophelia,  to  want  to  keep  him  away  from  you  so 
long." 

This  shrewd  speech  flattered  Ophelia,  and  it  reproved 
her.  There  was  not  the  least  hint  at  Kingsley,  but  it 
led  her  to  reflect  upon  her  willingness  to  his  perpetual 
presence,  and  to  blush  over  the  reflection.  To  perceive 
a  fault,  with  Ophelia,  was  to  institute  immediate  refor 
mation. 

That  evening  Mr.  Kingsley  promenaded  the  secluded 
little  walk  alone.  He  had  a  note-book  in  his  hand, 
and  wrote  rapidly  as  he  walked ;  but  now  and  then  he 
looked  toward  the  hotel  expectantly.  At  length  he 
closed  his  book  and  walked  toward  the  house.  He 
found  Ophelia  upon  the  veranda  talking  with  some 
young  ladies  in  that  cool,  conventional  way  that  re 
minded  him  of  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her.  At  his 
approach,  the  group  broke  up  and  scattered  abroad, 
leaving  Ophelia  to  him.  All  his  work  of  the  past  weeks 
was  undone ;  he  found  her  precisely  as  he  had  found 
her  upon  that  memorable  morning  a  little  over  two 
weeks  ago, — cool,  reserved,  formal,  and  apparently 
utterly  devoid  of  cordiality  or  enthusiasm.  He  gave 
no  sign  of  surprise  or  disquietude,  but  observed  her 


Ii6  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

attentively.  They  talked  upon  old  subjects  which  had 
interested  both,  but  the  interest  seemed  to  have  gone 
out  of  them. 

"  You  are  not  well,"  he  said  abruptly,  and  with  deep 
sympathy  in  look  and  tone. 

"I  have  a  slight  headache,"  she  returned,  carelessly. 

Just  then  the  daily  stage  drove  up.  Kingsley  was  not 
interested  in  new  arrivals,  and  did  not  look  around, 
consequently  missed  seeing  the  dignified  gentleman  who 
got  out,  and  who,  when  he  had  spoken  to  the  porter 
about  his  baggage,  came  straight  toward  their  quiet 
corner.  Therefore  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  startled 
look  and  agitated  manner  with  which  his  companion 
rose  to  meet  the  stranger.  But  he  noted  the  familiar 
manner  of  his  greeting,  and  her  shy  reception  of  it; 
and  when  he  had  bowed  a  cool  acknowledgment  of  an 
introduction  to  "Mr.  North,"  excused  himself  and  left 
them  alone.  She  saw  no  more  of  him  that  evening,  nor 
the  next  day,  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  came 
to  bid  her  good-by. 

"  Not  off?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Berges,  shaking  him  cor 
dially  by  the  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  returned  ;  "I  have  idled  here  too  long 
already." 

"  Come  and  see  us  when  we  return  to  the  city,"  said 
Ophelia,  giving  her  hand,  and  looking  at  him  kindly. 

Papa  re-echoed  the  invitation,  and  Mr.  Kingsley 
promised  that  he  would.  He  bowed  haughtily  to  Mrs. 
Berges  and  Mr.  -North,  and  was  off. 

"Who  is  that  young  man?"  inquired  Mr.  North, 
with  evidences  of  displeasure  in  his  tone. 

Mr.  Berges  explained  :  son  of  an  old  friend ;  fine 
family;  talented  young  gentleman,  etc. 

Mr.  North  was  no  better  pleased  than  before.  "  He 
has  the  important  air  of  one  who  governed  the  uni 
verse,"  he  said  ;  and  thereafter  the  "talented  young 
gentleman"  was  mentioned  no  more. 


HOPE  DEFERRED  AND   HOPE  VERIFIED.      117 

Do  you  miss  the  crime  and  bloodshed,  the  hairbreadth 
escapes  and  thrilling  adventure  with  which  it  is  con 
sidered  necessary  for  the  popular  novelist  to  spice  his 
narration  ?  Do  you  begin  to  sigh  for  a  steamboat  ex 
plosion,  a  railroad  disaster, — anythi*glQ%&.  your  pulses 
into  a  livelier  beat, — as  the  disdainful  Israelites,  diet 
ing  upon  manna,  sighed  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  ? 

Thrilling  adventure,  I  fear  me,  John,  is  unwholesome 
food  for  the  human  mind  ;  though  there  must,  now  and 
then,  drift  across  the  most  uneventful  life  some  soul- 
stirring  events. 

But  no !  looking  into  your  truthful  eyes,  I  perceive  that 
you  are  neither  dissatisfied  nor  bored.  And  as  I  see  no 
Mrs.  John  anywhere  about,  it  requires  a  considerable 
degree  of  self-denial  for  me  to  refrain  from  saying  how 
much  I  like  you,  John.  I  never  could  see  any  pleasure 
in  liking  people  if  we  may  not  tell  them.  Yet  if  I 
should  say  anything  of  the  kind,  the  world  would  frown 
and  cavil,  for  it  is  the  way  of  the  world  to  compress 
one's  thoughts  and  actions  into  the  narrow  limits  of  its 
own  code  and  rule,  so  that  its  people  stand  far  apart ; 
even  those  grouped  together  beneath  the  same  roof 
are  often  separated,  like  clustered  stars,  by  inconceiv 
able  space. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOPE    DEFERRED    AND    HOPE   VERIFIED. 

ADELE,  in  her  quiet  country  home,  sat  by  her  invalid 
mother,  more  patient  than  of  old,  but  no  more  satisfied. 
Ophelia's  letters  were  short  and  unsatisfactory,  chron 
icling  simply  current  events,  with  an  undercurrent  of 
listlessness  and  Ifaste  to  be  through,  that  was  peculiarly 
aggravating.  Tom  was  still  away.  They  had  heard 
from  him  once,  and  then  he  was  engaged  in  keeping  a 


Ii8  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

drinking-saloon  in  St.  Louis.  Cheering  news !  Herve 
was  always  at  work, — or  if  he  rested  a  moment,  it  was 
with  a  book  in  his  hand.  He  was  perfecting  himself 
in  his  medical  studies,  and  preparing  himself  for  his 
last  course,  in  the  ensuing  winter. 

Fan  and  Gertie,  her  two  elder  sisters,  were  no  com 
pany  for  Adele,  nor  she  for  them.  They  were  worthy 
young  women, — staid,  frugal,  and  industrious.  They 
were  never  idle.  They  wore  anxious,  careworn  faces, 
and  toiled  ceaselessly,  as  if  pursued  by  some  inexorable 
duty,  as  tireless  and  persistent  as  poor  lo's  gadfly! 
Their  talk  and  their  continual  thought  was  work, 
work.  Occasionally  they  read  a  scientific  treatise  under 
the  impression  that  they  were  "cultivating  their  minds." 
Otherwise  they  read  nothing.  They  kept  the  house  in 
beautiful  order :  not  a  speck  or  spot  about  it.  They 
cooked  and  scrubbed,  they  washed  and  ironed,  they 
swept  and  knit  and  sewed.  Ah  !  those  were  superior 
girls.  But  the  naughty  boys  would  bring  in  dust  and 
dirt,  and  throw  their  hats  and  coats  about,  and  soil 
and  tear  their  clothes.  They  had  no  reverence  for 
clean  things.  And  so  the  sisters  scolded  and  fretted 
while  they  worked,  and  wrought  wrinkles  and  ugly 
expressions  upon  their  countenances. 

"Why  not  be  more  moderate?"  suggested  Adele; 
but  they  held  themselves  stiffly,  and  made  no  reply. 
They  never  spoke  to  their  idle  sister  when  they  could 
help  it,  they  felt  themselves  so  superior. 

They  saw  no  merit  or  importance  in  other  work  than 
such  as  they  performed, — labor  of  the  hands.  Produc 
tions  that  neither  fed  nor  clothed  the  body,  labor 
which  produced  no  material  result,  was  silly  nonsense. 
Could  people  live  upon  the  sciences  ?  Let  them  try  it. 
Was  any  one's  life  ever  prolonged  or  made  more  com 
fortable  by  a  poem  ?  Poets  and  philosophers — the  idle 
race — had  to  be  fed  by  somebody's  hflnest  hands.  The 
word  "idle"  in  their  estimation  comprised  the  whole 
calendar  of  vices,  and  to  them  the  word  conveyed  but 


HOPE   DEFERRED   AND   HOPE  VERIFIED. 


119 


one  meaning, — not  occupied  in  manual  labor.  Unhappy 
the  luckless  individuals  who  were  the  helpless  recipients 
of  their  "  much  serving  "!  for  these  two  martyred  saints 
made  their  burden  grievous  to  be  borne.  And  so  of 
their  greatest  virtue  they  made  a  fault. 

Adele  thought  her  sisters'  industrious  ways  extremely 
disagreeable.  She  resolved  not  to  imitate  them,  and 
so  fell  into  the  opposite  error.  Adele  was  not  naturally 
indolent.  Work  had  never  been  presented  to  her  in 
the  light  of  helpful,  loving  service,  therefore  she  hated 
it.  A  reat  responsibility  would  have  made  a  different 
creature  of  her.  Her  sisters,  though  they  made  her 
feel  her  worthlessness,  never  asked  her  assistance,  and 
when  she  did  anything,  generally  found  occasion  to  do 
it  over,  which  was,  to  say  the  least,  discouraging. 

"  If  you  want  me  in  the  kitchen,"  she  said,  at  length, 
"please  let  me  know.  I  cannot  afford  to  stand  per 
petually  at  the  door,  on  the  watch  for  something  to  do." 
And  with  that  she  contented  herself  with  doing  little 
or  nothing.  She  kept  her  own  room  in  order,  and  her 
self  in  tidy  array,  to  the  intense  scorn  of  her  sisters, 
for  she  remembered  how  Sid  had  invited  himself  out 
to  spend  a  few  days. 

She  felt  sure  that  he  would  come,  and  as  the  summer 
advanced  and  the  invalid  grew  better,  she  sat  by  the 
window  and  watched  the  road, — the  dull,  white  road, 
where  the  heat  danced  all  the  long  sultry  day  ;  the  bare, 
monotonous  road,  where  only  the  farmer's  teams  jogged 
and  the  farmer's  lads  trotted.  Nothing  beautiful  in  the 
scene,  except  the  sky,  which  spread  abroad  its  gauzy 
wings.  Ah,  the  hot  silence,  the  constrained  patience, 
the  weary  waiting,  waiting  for — she  knew  not  what ! 

Through  these  lonely  midsummer  days,  Adele  had 
two  dangerous  companions, — Sid's  books  and  her  own 
untiring  imagination.  The  books  were  all  from  bril 
liant  and  unscrupulous  pens.  Victor  Hugo,  Madame 
George  Sand,  Goethe,  Richter,  Lord  Byron,  Shelley, 
and  even  Shakspeare,  were  represented  in  that  small 


120  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

package.  She  not  only  read  them,  she  studied  them 
through  the  silent,  monotonous  days ;  and  her  fertile 
brain  founded  visions  upon  them,  and  roved  through 
dangerous  fields. 

Imagination, — the  wayward  enchantress, — who  rolls 
the  wheels  of  her  splendid  chariot  upon  the  very  verge 
of  the  unfathomable  abysses  of  forbidden  knowledge ; 
who  dashes  recklessly  among  the  profound,  sublime,  and 
mysterious  revelations  of  nature ;  who  breaks  irrever 
ently  into  the  synods  of  learned  religionists,  and  hob 
nobs  familiarly  with  the  tempter;  who  led  Lucifer  and 
his  hosts  into  destruction  ; — who  can  compute  the  wrong 
she  instigates? 

The  summer  was  on  the  wane.  Books  nor  dreams 
can  satisfy  the  hungry  heart,  and  Adele  had  grown  sick 
of  her  life,  which  seemed  to  have  become  a  vast  stag 
nation.  The  scarlet  sunset  was  glowing,  the  dusty  road 
lay  cooling  in  deepening  shadows,  when  a  tall  figure 
stood  upon  the  old  porch  and  knocked.  At  every 
knock,  her  waiting  heart  had  said,  "It  is  he;"  but  it 
had  spoken  falsely,  and  now  she  scarcely  stirred  from 
her  careless  position  to  say  "  Come  in  !" 

Ah,  how  she  started  ! — how  the  dark  eyes  dilated,  as 
the  familiar  figure  stepped  upon  the  threshold,  and  the 
familiar  eyes  looked  into  hers,  smiling !  He  had  come, 
then, — at  last.  For  a  moment  she  sat  motionless. 

"You  look  inhospitable,"  he  said;  "I  shall  go 
back." 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  leave,  when  she  started 
up  and  came  forward,  as  stately  and  self-poised  as  of 
old. 

"I  had  given  you  up,"  she  said,  giving  him  her 
hand,  and  looking  flushed  and  happy. 

Then  she  inquired  about  Ophelia  and  her  city  friends. 
Sid  could  tell  her  but  little.  He  had  scarcely  seen 
Ophelia  all  summer.  He  had  been  absent  from  the 
city  nearly  all  the  season,  but  gave  no  account  as  to 
his  whereabouts. 


HOPE  DEFERRED  AND   HOPE  VERIFIED.      I2i 

To  say  the  truth,  Sid's  summer  had  not  sped  on 
golden  wings.  It  had  been  consumed  in  trying  to 
reconcile  himself  to  the  bestowal  of  his  precious  self 
upon  an  unattractive  heiress,  who,  just  as  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  conquering  his  repugnance  to  the  deed, 
bluntly  signified  a  willingness  to  dispense  with  his 
attentions  altogether.  However,  Sid  was  not  quite  so 
crushed  as  the  heiress  afterwards  represented,  though 
he  regretted  the  loss  of  time.  After  such  a  wearisome 
summer  the  thought  of  Adele  and  rural  solitudes  was 
irresistible, 

"You  have  been  reading,"  he  said,  looking  at  the 
books  upon  the  window-ledge.  "How  did  you  like 
the  selection?" 

"Very  well,"  she  replied.  "I  admire  Byron  more 
than  Shakspeare.  He  is  more  earnest.  His  thoughts- 
seem  irrepressible  and  overmastering,  while  Shakspeare 
-is  deliberate  and  calculating." 

Sid  nodded  his  head  and  smiled. 

"And  Shelley?"  he  inquired. 

"  Is  scarcely  so  vigorous,  but  more  sincere  and  more 
delicate  than  either  Byron  or  Shakspeare." 

"And  which  of  the  two  German  poets  do  you  like 
the  most  ?" 

"  My  taste,  it  seems,  never  accords  with  the  popular 
verdict,"  she  replied.  "I  like  Richter,  who  is  always 
genial  and  gentle,  better  than  Goethe,  who  is  some 
times,  like  Shakspeare,  coarse." 

Sid  elevated  his  eyebrows.  "Quite  a  critic,"  he 
said,  and  then  he  looked  about  the  room.  "  I  have 
certainly  seen  this  place  in  my  dreams ;  it  looks  so 
familiar.  Not  a  bad-looking  place.  I  wonder  how 
old  it  is?" 

Seeing  thai  he  looked  dusty  and  warm,  she  con 
ducted  him  to  the  room  set  apart  for  visitors,  with  the 
sober,  business  air  of  a  professional  chambermaid.  The 
door  closed  upon  Sid,  she  set  forth  upon  the  per 
formance  of  a  disagreeable  mission, — that  of  informing 


122  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

her  mother  and  sisters  of  the  arrival  of  the  city  guest. 
The  news  was  not  so  disagreeably  received  as  she  had 
imagined.  Here  was  an  opportunity,  thought  the  sisters, 
of  ridding  themselves  forever  of  this  Joseph,  who  wore 
such  lofty  airs  ;  and  it  should  be  no  fault  of  theirs  if  she 
was  not  speedily  out  of  the  way ;  and  Mrs.  Hughes, 
naturally  hospitable  and  curious  in  regard  to  strangers, 
was  never  displeased  at  the  advent  of  a  new  subject. 

As  to  the  old  house,  she  felt  strangely  indifferent 
whether  he  liked  it  or  not ;  her  mind  was  filled  with 
other  things.  Sid  had  nothing  whereof  to  complain  in 
the  reception  extended  him  by  the  family.  To  the 
true  Kentuckian  there  is  nothing  too  good  for  the 
stranger,  let  him  be  rich  or  poor ;  and  these  were 
guileless  and  unsuspecting  people. 

Three  days  sped  by  on  downy  wings.  Sitting  in 
the  cool,  old-fashioned  parlor,  discussing  books  and 
people,  and  everything,  or  walking  up  and  down  the 
shadowy  aisles  of  the  grand  old  orchard  with  a  beauti 
ful  woman, — a  woman  who  was  wise  and  gifted,  but 
not  to  an  overshadowing  extent, — was  an  employment 
entirely  congenial  to  Sid's  tastes ;  but  it  could  not  last 
forever. 

The  last  afternoon  of  his  stay  he  proposed  to  explore 
the  neighboring  woods.  A  toilsome  journey  through  hot, 
unshaded  meadows,  and  they  enter  a  palace  of  dreams. 
The  high  dome  of  dense  foliage  which  spread  above 
them  was  flecked  with  shafts  of  golden  sunshine  and 
luminous  shadows.  Dim  vistas  of  dusky  depths  led 
off  from  either  side,  and  festoons  of  tangled  vines 
adorned  the  way. 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  voluptuary  with  a  sigh  of  deep 
delight, — "  what  ecstasy  to  dwell  in  such  a  spot  and  in 
such  companionship  forever  !" 

"There  are  gnats  and  mosquitoes  in  these  woods," 
remarked  Adele.  She  looked  like  a  wood-nymph  in 
her  simple  lawn  dress,  with  frills  of  softest  lace  about 
the  neck  and  wrists.  She  carried  her  hat  in  her 


HOPE   DEFERRED  AND  HOPE   VERIFIED. 


123 


hand,  and  the  roguish  zephyr  rumpled  and  tossed  her 
curling  hair. 

"I  am  tired  of  playing  propriety,"  was  Sid's  silent 
reflection.  "  It  has  become  a  task  which  requires  too 
great  an  effort  for  my  self-indulging  temperament :  at 
least  there  can  be  nothing  said  against  looking  love. 
Who  would  think  of  blaming  me  under  such  strong 
provocation?" 

Adele  was  talking  of  a  flower, — a  rich  midsummer 
blossom  of  the  brightest  scarlet,  which  he  had  gathered 
for  her;  and  he  was  listening  abstractedly,  thinking 
more  of  her  than  of  what  she  said ;  and  his  soft  an 
swers  and  tender  looks  began  to  thrill  vaguely  upon 
some  sensitive  chords  in  her  nature.  She  began  to 
open  her  eyes  to  the  fact  that  Sid  was  making  love  to 
her,  though  in  a  vague,  non-committal  way.  A  half- 
scornful,  half-defiant  smile  curved  her  lip.  "I  know 
you,  Sid  Waltman,"  was  her  answering  thought,  "and 
I  am  not  afraid  of  your  soft  speeches  and  meaning 
looks ;  for  I  know  them  to  be  as  utterly  hollow  and 
treacherous  as  the  caresses  of  Paolo  Orsini,  who,  fold 
ing  his  wife  in  a  warm  and  loving  embrace,  slipped  a 
noose  about  her  neck  and  strangled  her." 

Confident  of  her  own  strength  and  self-dominion, 
she  met  the  speaking  glances  of  his  handsome  dark 
eyes  fearlessly.  Sid  looked  like  a  god  to-day, — like 
those  mythical  and  mischievous  ideals  of  wisdom  and 
grace  whom  the  poetic  Grecian  ignorantly  worshiped. 
The  fire  of  noble  thought  burned  in  his  eye,  and  a 
fraternal  love  for  the  whole  world  lit  up  his  perfect 
features.  Adele  had  never  seen  him  look  so  ani 
mated,  so  strangely  moved.  And  as  he  poured  forth  his 
thoughts  in  a  continuous  flow  of  singularly  beautiful 
expressions,  he  seemed  to  be  speaking  under  the  force 
of  some  rapturous  constraining  power  wholly  beyond 
his  will ;  and  Adele  reproached  herself  and  said,  "  He 
is  better  than  I  had  thought." 

And  now  began  a  silent  -battle  in  her  heart.     She 


124 


UNDER    TH-E   SURFACE. 


did  not  want  to  think  him  good  ;  she  tried  to  rouse  the 
old  antagonism  and  mistrust,  and  felt  the  lulling  influ 
ence  of  his  looks  and  words  with  a  gathering  fear. 
But  she  rested  upon  her  own  strength  of  will  for  sup 
port,  and  that,  alas!  was  as  "  a  reed  shaken  by  the 
wind."  She  looked  abroad,  at  the  soft,  bright  tints  in 
earth  and  sky, — everywhere  but  into  those  thrilling 
eyes. 

"  There  !  Do  you  hear  that?"  she  exclaimed,  with 
a  look  of  relief,  as  the  sound  of  a  horn  and  baying 
hounds  came  up  the  valley.  "The  hunters  are  on  a 
chase.  Let  us  sit  here  and  wait ;  they  will  be  coming 
this  way  presently." 

She  enthroned  herself  upon  a  ledge  of  rock  which 
jutted  from  the  hill-side  and  formed  a  convenient  seat, 
with  back  and  arms.  Leaning  an  elbow  upon  the  arm 
of  her  rustic  bench,  she  looked  anxiously  down  the 
shadowy  ravine,  to  see  the  hunters  and  their  hounds 
drift  by  in  the  distance.  When  they  were  out  of  sight 
and  hearing,  Sid  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  How  I  wish  that  I  had  been  reared  in  the  grand 
solitudes  of  a  country  life,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh, — 
"away  from  the  fume  and  brawl  of  the  jostling  crowd  ! 
Then,  perhaps,  some  of  the  better  qualities  of  my 
nature  would  have  had  some  chance  for  development." 

For  a  short  space  he  looked  down  upon  the  tangled 
and  motley  mass  of  foliage,  rocks,  brush,  and  dead 
leaves  beneath  them ;  then  turning  to  Adele,  began  to 
speak  of  himself :  a  thing  he  seldom  did  to  any  one. 
All  the  hopes,  misfortunes,  ambitions,  and  misdoings  of 
his  changeful  life  ;  softening  nothing,  concealing  noth 
ing,  he  opened  to  her  inspection  a  perspective  of  his 
inner  life  and  growth  ;  his  struggles,  his  sympathetic 
longings,  and  the  ruthless  tramp  of  the  giant  Circum 
stance  upon  many  a  blossoming  good ;  and  so  he  en 
twined  her  sympathies  with  all  his  life,  and  drew  forth 
all  her  pity  and  her  tenderness,  until  he  felt  it  enfold 
him  like  a  garment,  as  if  it  sought  to  shield  him  from 


HOPE   DEFERRED  AND   HOPE  VERIFIED. 


125 


all  life's  storms ;  then  he  gently,  but  firmly,  took  her 
hand,  and  looking  deep  into  her  eyes,  poured  into  her 
soul  all  the  flood  of  passion  which  so  deeply  agitated  his. 

Adele  tried  to  get  her  hand  away,  but  it  was  fast. 
She  tried  to  be  calm  and  commanding,  but  her  heart 
beat  fearfully,  and  she  discovered  with  terror  that  her 
strength  was  gone.  He  perceived  his  victory  and  her 
alarm,  and  with  well  simulated  humility  subdued  her 
fears.  "  The  time  of  which  I  have  dreamed,  sleeping 
or  waking,  ever  since  I  first  knew  you,  Adele,  has  come. 
You  love,  me  !  you  are  mine  !  and  there  is  no  use  in  striv 
ing  against  the  decrees  of  Fate,  which  are  irrevocable." 

He  placed  his  hand  at  the  back  of  her  head,  amid 
her  soft  brown  hair  which  twined  about  his  fingers,  and, 
drawing  her  nearer,  bent  his  face  to  hers  and  softly 
kissed  her  lips.  Always  deliberate  in  his  movements, 
always  gentle,  he  had  overmastered  her  imperious  and 
willful  nature. 

Suddenly  she  sprang  from  his  grasp.  "  I  must  go 
home  !"  she  exclaimed,  and  began  to  climb  the  hill. 
Sid  followed,  smiling  quietly  to  himself.  When  they 
had  reached  the  edge  of  the  woods  he  stopped. 

"Adele,  sit  down  here,"  he  said  ;  "  you  are  in  sight 
of  home ;  you  look  flushed  and  tired,  and  I  have  some 
thing  to  say  to  you." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  silently  obeyed  him. 

"  You  know  my  circumstances,  Adele, — my  whole 
life ;  you  know  that  I  cannot  marry  now.  Can  you 
find  enough  love  for  me  in  your  heart  to  make  you 
willing  to  wait  for  me  one,  perhaps  two  years?" 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  fixedly.  No  blushes, 
no  tremors  now  :  her  feelings  had  become  too  profound 
for  such  transient  expression.  "If  I  could  only  be 
lieve  you  !  If  I  could  only  trust  you  !" 

"Adele,  I  will  swear,  if  you  wish." 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  she  exclaimed,  hurriedly,  "do  not 
swear.  I  will  take  vour  word.  Here  is  my  hand.  la 

two  years " 

if* 


126  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

"  It  is  mine,"  he  said,  clasping  it  in  both  of  his. 

A  little,  sober-coated  bird,  perched  upon  the  bough 
above  them,  began  to  sing  an  accompaniment  to  the 
low,  thrilling  tones  of  the  lovers  beneath.  Innumerable 
were  the  castles  they  builded, — visions  as  brilliant  and 
illusory  as  the  Fata  Morgana  which  fills  the  waters  of 
Messina  with  its  vapory  cities.  The  little  songster 
grew  dissatisfied  with  his  part  in  the  performance,  sud 
denly  ceased  his  quavering  note,  and  flew  away.  A 
gorgeous  sunset  painted  its  evanescent  glory  upon  the 
western  sky.  The  lovers  walked  home  in  the  fading 
splendor  of  its  light,  and  the  singular  antique  ring 
upon  Sid's  finger  was  transferred  to  Adele's  amid 
solemn  protestations  of  truth  and  constancy. 

You  see,  John,  I  always  keep  you  with  me.  I  do 
not  heap  up  great  black  clouds  of  mysteries,  to  which 
you  have  no  clue,  between  us.  I  like  to  make  plain, 
deliberate  investigation  of  whatever  springs  into  our 
path,  instead  of  massing  up  impenetrable  walls  of  un 
known  material,  which,  when  it  comes  to  the  winnow 
ing,  discovers  three  grains  of  wheat  to  the  bushel  of 
chaff.  I  prefer  that  we  harvest  our  scanty  crop  with 
less  ado. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 
"GWYNNETH'S  WAKING  HOUR." 

"  MAMMA,  if  you  are  willing,  I  should  like  to  make 
Adele  a  visit  of  two  or  three  weeks.  I  know  she  would 
be  glad  to  have  me." 

"They  are  poor,  Ophelia,  and  Mrs.  Hughes  is  in 
bad  health.  I  wouldn't  go  there  now :  it  would  be  an 
imposition." 


GWYNNETH'S    WAKING   HOUR: 


127 


"  Well,  then,"  after  a  long  pause,  in  which  the  daugh 
ter  looked  out  upon  the  beautiful  grounds  of  Crab 
Orchard  with  a  frown,  "  let  us  go  home.  I  am  tired  to 
death  of  everything  here." 

"Impossible!"  said  mamma,  coolly.  "There  is 
cholera  in  the  city." 

Mrs.  Berges  lifted  her  clear  blue  eyes,  and  inspected 
her  daughter  keenly.  Her  daughter  interpreted  the 
look,  and  returned  it  unflinchingly. 

"  A  week  ago  you  thought  the  place  delightful." 

"  Oh,  _yes,  the  Bentons  were  here  then,  and  they 
were  so  interesting.  I  never  met  any  one  I  liked 
better  than  Louise  and  Mary  Benton." 

"Should  you  like  West  Baden,  mamma?"  said  Mr. 
Berges,  looking  up  from  that  work  of  John  Stuart 
Mill,  "On  Liberty,"  of  which  he  was  very  fond.  "I 
believe  we  have  never  been  there." 

"No,"  said  mamma,  decidedly.  "  I  should  prefer 
some  quiet  place  near  the  city,  and  so,  I  think,  would 
Ophelia." 

"There  is  Craycroft's, — about  five  or  six  miles  out, 
— a  nice  quiet  place,  if  that  is  what  you  want." 

Mrs.  Berges  made  a  few  inquiries  in  regard  to  con 
veniences,  etc.  Ophelia  looked  unappreciative,  but 
upon  being  called  upon  for  her  verdict  could  find  no 
fault. 

"Pshaw!"  exclaimed  Walter,  who  had  just  come 
in  to  beg  a  string  for  his  balloon  from  sister  or  mamma, 
"  there  won't  be  enough  boys  there  to  play  base-ball." 

"Settle  it  among  yourselves,"  said  Mr.  Berges,  turn 
ing  his  back  upon  the  party.  "  Go  where  you  like.  I'll 
be  satisfied,  if  the  rest  of  you  are." 

After  a  little  more  discussion,  Craycroft's  was  decided 
upon  for  the  remainder  of  the  season  ;  and  after  a  little 
preliminary  negotiation  with  its  owner,  the  Berges 
party  transferred  themselves  and  their  baggage  to  that 
beautiful  country-house.  The  grounds  were  spacious 
and  shaded,  the  family  was  small,  and  there  were  no 


128  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

other  guests.  No  excuse  foi  complaint  from  any  save 
Walter,  whose  base-ball  was  interrupted. 

Mr.  North  came  out  twice  a  week.  He  was  as  dis 
tant  and  ceremonious  as  usual.  He  talked  of  little 
except  business  affairs,  and  generally  looked  worn  and 
abstracted.  He  had  sustained  several  heavy  losses 
recently,  which  he  explained  to  Ophelia,  entering  into 
the  dryest  detail. '  But  Ophelia's  mind  refused  to  take 
hold  upon  the  matter.  Strive  as  she  would  she  could 
not  comprehend  what  it  was,  about  bank  stock,  insur 
ance,  revenue,  duty,  taxes,  and  I  know  not  what,  that 
disturbed  him  and  kept  his  brow  clouded  with  anxiety 
and  care. 

Oftentimes,  through  these  quiet,  dreamy  days,  Ophelia 
thought  of  her  new  friend,  who  had  flashed  upon  her 
prosaic  life  like  a  picture  from  a  romance,  and  won 
dered  sadly  if  she  would  ever  see  him  again.  She  did 
not  love  him.  Ophelia  knew  she  did  not  love  him  ; 
but  for  all  that  the  long  summer  days  wearied  her  be 
cause  of  him,  and  all  the  calm  and  ease  went  out  of 
her  luxurious  life.  She  walked  alone  in  the  long  bright 
afternoons,  but  the  joyous  loveliness  of  the  scene  only 
created  in  her  mind  a  feeling  of  hopeless  alienation. 
She  could  not  be  gay  with  the  meadows  and  wood  and 
laughing  streams. 

As  she  sat  one  afternoon  amid  the  thick  shadows  of 
the  elms,  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  her  dull  mind 
traveling  listlessly  over  its  pages,  she  heard  the  little 
gate  swing  to.  She  glanced  up  with  stupid  curiosity ; 
but  how  quickly  the  expression  changed  to  one  of  keen  in 
terest  !  Who  was  it  with  her  father?  Did  she  not  know? 

And  now  he  had  her  hand,  and  was  looking  deep 
into  her  eyes.  But  what  changes  were  in  his  ! — a  little 
weariness,  sharp  scrutiny,  and  much  haughtiness ;  and 
how  coldly  they  glanced  away  after  the  first  deep  glance  ! 
He  had  forgotten  !  Ah,  this  fickle,  fickle  world  !  While 
her  thoughts  had  remained  stationary,  just  where  he 
had  left  them,  his  had  passed  out  of  the  old  mood  and 


"GWYNNETWS    WAKIXG  HOUR." 


129 


gone  on  into  a  new  one,  of  which  she  comprehended 
nothing.  He  seemed  utterly  strange  to  her.  All  the 
gentleness  was  gone  from  his  manner;  it  was  more 
haughty  and  less  kind. 

They  talked  and  acted  like  entire  strangers,  and 
when  Mr.  Berges  had  gone  into  the  house  and  left 
them  alone,  it  was  even  worse.  They  could  scarcely 
think  of  anything  at  all  to  say. 

"  I  think  you  are  very  unlike  you  were  at  Crab 
Orchard,"  said  Ophelia,  abruptly,  when  they  had  sat 
for  some  time  in  silence. 

"How'am  I  different?"  he  inquired,  with  a  slight 
smile. 

"You  are  not  quite  so — you  seem  hardened,"  she 
said,  some  of  the  old  color  springing  into  her  cheeks. 

"Hardened!  It  is  well  to  be  hardened, — at  least 
for  drifting,  defenseless  crafts  like  myself, — so  that  we 
may  suffer  as  little  damage  as  possible  from  hard  knocks 
against  the  projecting  angles  of  heavier-bodied  struc 
tures,  such  as  are  well-ballasted,  bravely  rigged  and 
manned." 

"  But  hard  bodies  get  shivered  sometimes." 

"Oh,  yes;  everything  is  subject  to  the  contingencies 
of  chance.  The  best  rule  that  I  can  originate  for  the 
preservation  of  human  happiness  is,  always  shun  what 
ever  promises  to  be  unpleasant." 

"That  is,  if  it  gives  no  promise  of  doing  good," 
suggested  Ophelia. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  returned,  carelessly;  "I  do  not  care 
to  do  or  be  good.  I  enjoy  life  as  it  is,  and  have  no 
inclination  for  'climbing  up  the  ever-climbing  wave,' 
in  the  hope  of  making  some  one  else  happy.  I  love 
pleasure, — such  little  snatches  as  I  can  get, — and  am 
willing  to  accept  the  consequences  of  indulgence,  what 
ever  they  may  be.  You  must  know,  Miss  Berges,  I  am 
not  what  you  would  style  a  '  worthy  young  man.'  ' 

"If  I  had  never  heard  you  talk  before,  I  should  be 
inclined  to  think  you  heartless.  But  it  is  useless  for 


1 3o  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

you  to  be  putting  on  a  mask  now.  I  know  you  too 
well  to  be  deceived." 

"  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you  that  the  other  was  the 
mask." 

"Then,"  said  Ophelia,  sternly,  "I  would  agree 
with  you  in  esteeming  yourself  an  unworthy  young 
man.  Any  one  who  clings  to  wrong,  when  he  knows 
it  to  be  wrong,  simply  because  he  enjoys  it,  is  con 
temptible." 

She  arose,  unconsciously,  looking  toward  the  woods. 

"  Should  you  like  to  walk?"  he  asked,  observing  the 
romantic  path  which  led  toward  the  object  of  her  con 
templation. 

"  If  you  have  not  been  treading  pavement  all  day." 

"I  have  been  perched  upon  a  stool  in  a  dingy  little 
office,  and  have  scarcely  stirred  all  day." 

The  question  being  settled,  they  walked  toward  the 
cool,  green  wood.  The  way  was  rough.  It  suited  her 
mood,  which  was  to  conquer.  He  never  offered  her 
any  assistance.  He  let  her  make  her  way  across  the 
rocky  places,  the  ruts,  and  rivulets  as  best  she  could. 
His  manner  was  as  chill  as  a  breeze  from  the  North 
Pole.  It  was  plain  he  had  not  even  friendship  for  her. 
She  had  had  all  sorts  of  experiences,  was  used  to  reve 
rential  admiration,  intense,  devoted  love,  almost  adora 
tion  ;  but  cool  indifference — and  .that  where  she  had 
desired  a  warmer  feeling — was  new  to  her,  entirely, 
shockingly  new.  For  a  short  distance  she  said  nothing 
and  pouted ;  but,  as  he  said  nothing  and  was  serene, 
that  did  not  last  long. 

What  did  she  want?  Ophelia  never  once  thought 
to  ask  herself  that  question.  She  wanted  his  love,  and 
was  ready  to  cry  because  he  would  not  give  it  her  then 
and  there. 

I  will  do  Ophelia  justice.  That  was  not  all  that  ex 
cited  and  disturbed  her.  She  was  disappointed  in  him. 
She  had  found  a  blemish  too  important  to  be  over 
looked.  And  moral  deformity  was  as  hateful  to  her 


"G  WYNNE  Tf-rS    WAKING  HOURr  ^i 

as  moral  beauty  was  lovely.  She  felt  angry  with  him 
for  having  appropriated  a  place  in  her  heart  upon  false 
grounds.  She  wanted  him  to  be  good,  how  intensely 
she  wanted  him  to  be  good  !  and  that  from  the  very 
first.  Why  the  want  of  moral  excellence  in  her  be 
trothed  had  not  disturbed  her  to  such  an  extent  she 
had  not  thought  to  inquire. 

His  presence,  for  which  she  had  longed,  brought  her 
no  comfort.  Comfort ! — it  had  brought  her  despair. 
Her  hope  of  establishing  an  influence  over  him  that 
was  to  lead  him  to  better  things  was  gone.  What  use 
to  talk  to  him  when  he  listened  to  her  with  scorn  ? 
But  she  must  talk.  Her  mind  was  too  thoroughly 
aroused  to  keep  silence.  She  felt  that  there  were  in 
tonations  in  her  voice  to  correspond  with  her  feelings, 
but  she  did  not  care. 

His  answers  were  prompt  but  careless ;  and  when 
every  nerve  in  her  body  was  strung  to  its  highest 
tension  he  yawned  covertly  and  looked  bored.  Ophelia 
had  become  accustomed  to  praise  and  a  ready  yielding 
to  her  will.  Her  life  hitherto  had  flown  smoothly  and 
without  interruption.  Whosoever  she  desired  to 
attract  immediately  became  her  devoted  friend  and 
admirer.  It  was  not  to  be  regretted,  perhaps,  that  she 
had  at  length  come  upon  some  one  who  had  the  heart 
to  snub  her  and  take  some  of  the  vanity  out  of  her. 
The  walk  was  a  tiresome  one  to  Ophelia.  Whether  it 
had  proved  more  satisfactory  to  Kingsley  was  a  matter 
beyond  any  one's  power  to  fathom.  He  brightened 
up,  however,  over  the  iced  tea,  sherbet,  and  cookies, 
which  they  had  upon  a  little  round  table  under  the 
elms,  and  said  some  very  witty  things. 

Mrs.  Berges,  who  was  skilled  in  fashionable  small 
talk,  and  whose  conversational  resources  were  known 
to  be  inexhaustible,  was  upon  this  occasion  haughtily 
silent.  The  gentlemen,  thrown  upon  their  own  re 
sources,  resorted  to  politics  and  the  crops.  So  dull, 
so  dreadfully  dull  was  it,  after  the  edibles  were  con- 


1 32  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

sumed,  that  the  two  gentlemen  immediately  betook 
themselves  to  the  city.  Mr.  Kingsley  said  that  he 
would  call  again,  when  invited  to  do  so  by  Ophelia. 
But  his  words  sounded  mechanical.  She  looked  after 
him,  as  he  went  down  the  graveled  walk  with  her 
father,  looking  so  erect,  so  strong,  so  capable  and  full 
of  power  to  work  great  good  or  great  evil,  and  uncon 
sciously  sighed.  Her  sorrow  was  for  his  future,  and 
not  for  her  own,  though  she  had  no  hope  of  ever  seeing 
him  again. 

"It  is  exceedingly  strange  to  me  why  your  father 
should  have  such  a  liking  for  that  young  man,"  said 
Mrs.  Berges,  as  she  and  Ophelia  sat  alone  under  the 
elms,  "  when  he  knows  how  utterly  unworthy  of  trust 
or  confidence  he  is.  There  is  nothing  in  the  way  of 
deception  and  villainy  that  I  could  not  believe  him 
capable  of.  He  is  false,  utterly  false.  He  has  no 
honor,  no  principle.  With  his  deceiving  looks  and 
his  flattering  tongue  he  has  broken  the  heart  of  more 
than  one  fond,  trusting  girl,  and  would  like  some  more 
employment  of  the  same  sort,  no  doubt." 

The  twilight  was  deepening,  and  the  shadows  lay 
thick  about  the  old  elm-trees  where  they  sat.  Ophelia 
was  silent  and  still. 

"  I  never  liked  his  father,"  continued  Mrs.  Berges. 
"  He  was  an  arrogant,  self-willed,  supercilious  man, 
and  I  always  resisted  the  influence  he  exerted  over 
your  father.  As  for  his  mother,  I  hated  her  /" 

The  intensity  of  the  tone  in  which  the  latter  clause 
was  uttered  obviated  the  necessity  of  further  comment. 
Mrs.  Berges,  though  a  loquacious  woman,  was  not  com 
municative,  and  had  never  been  known  to  confide  more 
than  ordinary  incidents  of  her  youth.  Here  the  con 
versation  closed. 

Ophelia  went  early  to  her  room.  She  was  very  mis 
erable  ;  for  she  felt  that  the  friend  to  whom  she  had 
given  a  place  of  honor  in  her  heart  was  unworthy  of 
esteem,  and  his  unworthiness  bore  as  heavily  upon  her 


"GWYNNETH'S    WAKING  HOUR."  133 

mind  as  if  it  had  been  her  own.  There  was  but  one 
right  course  for  her  to  pursue :  that  was  to  put  him' 
out  of  her  thoughts  forever.  And  before  that  could  be 
accomplished  much  misery  must  ensue.  Few  ever 
succeeded  in  penetrating  into  that  guarded  heart  of 
Ophelia's,  and  these  were  permanently  enshrined  there. 

She  wondered  how  it  was  that  she  had  been  so  de 
ceived  in  him.  She  knew  her  mother's  prejudice 
against  him,  and  there  lingered  in  her  mind  a  faint 
belief  that  her  mother's  credulity,  which  was  easily 
biased  in  that  direction,  had  been  imposed  upon  by 
some  malicious  gossip.  But  what  mattered  it  now 
whether  the  information  were  true  or  false  ?  Her 
dream  of  friendship  was  over.  He  would  not  be  likely 
ever  to  come  again ;  he  had  that  look  in  his  eye  when 
he  left. 

But  he  did  come  again.  Mr.  North  was  with  her 
under  the  elms  when  he  sauntered  up  the  walk.  He 
looked  tired  and  warm,  but  there  was  a  light  of  plea 
sant  anticipation  in  his  eye.  Ophelia  looked  at  him  in 
wonder.  He  was  not  at  all  like  the  same  person.  He 
shook  hands  cordially  with  Mr.  North  and  sat  down  in 
front  of  Ophelia,  and  not  very  far  away.  All  the  stiff 
ness  and  formality  had  disappeared  from  his  manner. 
He  was  voluble,  brilliant,  and  Mr.  North,  who  was 
not  gifted  with  conversational  powers,  was  constrained 
to  listen  in  silence. 

It  had  been  a  dull  afternoon  with  Ophelia,  and  she 
was  not  sorry  to  be  led  off  from  the  contemplation  of 
Mr.  North's  business  affairs  into  the  fairy-peopled 
realms  of  book-land.  She  tried  to  be  reserved  and 
on  her  guard,  but  his  thoughts,  coming  to  her  like 
her  own,  only  clothed  in  a  richer,  more  elegant  garb, 
enkindled  surprise  and  delight  beyond  her  power  of 
concealment.  Her  betrothed  was  not  one  who  would 
willingly  suffer  a  diminution  of  importance  by  com 
parison,  so  he  soon  transferred  himself  to  the  veranda 
and  the  more  appreciative  society  of  Mrs.  Berges. 


134 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


For  the  time  Mr.  Kingsley  seemed  to  abandon  him 
self  to  perfect  enjoyment.  Ophelia  looked  at  him  in 
utter  wonder.  Whence,  in  heaven's  name,  came  this 
strange  attractiveness?  It  was  not  of  her  own  imag 
ining,  she  knew;  for  had  she  not,  from  the  very  first, 
felt  drawn  toward  him  by  some  unknown  and  irresist 
ible  power? 

Her  faith  in  the  soundness  of  his  principles  was  re 
instated.  She  believed  in  and  trusted  him  once  more. 
He  gave  her  a  few  glimpses  of  his  past  life,  which  re 
vealed  a  deep  reverence  and  love  for  his  mother  and 
for  all  good  women.  It  was  a  nature  undoubtedly  not 
to  be  reconciled  to  falsehood  and  hypocrisy,  much  less 
made  a  participant  in  their  crooked  ways, — a  nature 
painfully  erect  and  unyielding.  He  did  not  remain 
long,  but  promised  an  early  repetition  of  his  visit. 
Ophelia  joined  the  party  upon  the  veranda  with  a 
happy  heart.  Everything  was  permanently  established 
now.  They  would  always  be  good  friends ;  and  life, 
under  such  conditions,  looked  fair  and  promising. 

"Why  did  Kingsley  leave  so  soon?"  inquired  Mr. 
Berges,  who  had  just  arrived  from  the  city.  "  He  is  a 
very  entertaining  young  man,  and  I  should  have  liked 
his  company  awhile  myself." 

"  He  had  some  business  to  attend  to  this  evening," 
said  Ophelia. 

"  /should  not  be  inconsolable  if  his  business  should 
deprive  us  of  his  society  altogether,"  said  Mrs.  Berges. 
"I  do  not  approve  of  his  visiting  here  at  all." 

"He  is  liberally  endowed  with  conceit,"  said  Mr. 
North.  "  It  is  quite  evident  that  he  entirely  approves 
of  himself." 

"Kingsley  is  sharp  and  witty,  and  he  knows  it;  but 
he  has  no  bad  traits  or  bad  habits  that  I  know  of," 
said  Mr.  Berges.  "His  father,  whom  he  resembles  very 
much,  was  a  good  friend  of  mine  in  our  younger  days, 
and  it  is  my  wish  that  his  son  receive  all  the  courtesy 
and  attention  that  is  due  an  honored  guest." 


"GWYNNETITS    WAKING  HOUR." 


135 


That  settled  and  closed  the  question.  Though  an 
indulgent  husband  and  father,  Mr.  Berges,  whenever  it 
was  requisite,  could  take  as  firm  and  decided  a  stand 
as  the  occasion  demanded  ;  and  in  such  instances  his 
wishes  were  not  likely  to  be  disregarded. 

Mr.  Kingsley  came  very  often  now,  and  was  always 
kindly  received  by  Ophelia.  Mrs.  Berges  was  seldom 
present,  and  when  she  was,  generally  diligently  occupied 
herself  with  her  Bible  commentaries.  The  Bible  itself 
she  seldom  read.  Commentaries  did  away  with  the 
necessity  of  study,  and  that  she  considered  an  excellent 
economy  of  time.  At  such  times  she  was  so  filled  with 
admiration  of  her  own  superior  goodness,  that,  failing 
to  catch  the  entire  meaning  of  such  passages  as  "  Love 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself,"  her  countenance  assumed  a 
proud  and  scornful  expression.  And  poor  Kingsley, 
who  was  a  publican  and  a  sinner,  and  in  possession  of 
none  of  that  divine  spirit  which  constraineth  us  to  love 
our  enemies,  felt  his  dislike  increase  with  every  time 
they  met.  "A  good  woman,  no  doubt,"  he  thought, 
observing  the  commentaries,  "but  unfortunately  repul 
sive.  ' ' 

Then  he  fell  to  wondering  how  it  was  that  piety  was 
so  attractive  in  some  and  so  repulsive  in  others.  Be 
not  deceived,  my  good  friend;  true  piety  is  never  re 
pulsive.  It  is  hard  to  attain  and  to  retain, — very  hard 
indeed,  oftentimes, — but  it  is  always  beautiful.  Some 
very  good  people  may  have  some  very  disagreeable 
propensities,  but  it  is  not  the  goodness  which  makes 
them  disagreeable.  Wherever  there  are  sinfulness  and 
repulsion  there  is  evil ;  and  Mrs.  Berges  was  one  of 
those  persons  who  imagine  themselves  pious  when  they 
are  only  ill-natured. 

One  afternoon  Kingsley  came  late,  and  looked  har 
assed  and  troubled.  He  said  that  he  had  been  writing 
all  day  and  was  tired.  Would  Ophelia  like  a  little  walk  ? 
Yes.  She  was  tired,  too.  She  had  been  all  the  after 
noon  striving  to  entertain  Mr.  North,  who  refused  to 


136  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

be  entertained ;  and  there  was  nothing  she  would  like 
better  than  a  walk  to  the  woods.  This  time  he  took 
her  hand  and  helped  her  over  the  rough  places.  He 
talked  rapidly,  and  looked  at  her  often, — earnest,  pro 
tracted  looks,  which  reached  her  heart  and  sprung  a 
new  sensation  there ;  a  feeling  which,  once  planted, 
was  to  grow  from  that  time  forth  and  forever.  He 
had  never  looked  at  her  like  that  before. 

With  a  sudden  shock  Ophelia  awoke  from  her  blind, 
her  stupid,  ignorant  trance.  He  saw  her  turn  pale. 
"I  must  go  back,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  feel  well  at 
all." 

"Sit  down  here  awhile  first,"  he  returned;  "it  is 
shady  and  pleasant,  and  you  will  feel  better.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

"You  can  say  it  some  other  time;  I  must  go  to  the 
house  now." 

"Ophelia,  you  must  hear  it  now."  He  seized  her 
dress  and  held  her  fast.  "You  have  let  me  love  you; 
you  shall  listen  !  I  know  that  you  are  betrothed,  but 
you  shall  know  that  I  love  you.  He  does  not.  There 
is  not  one  spark  of  love  in  him.  Choose  between  us." 

There  was  a  sort  of  fury  in  his  eye  as  he  said  this, 
holding  fast  to  her  dress.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him;  she  could  not  remove  them. 

"Let  me  go  !"  she  exclaimed,  distractedly. 

"  Not  until  you  answer  me  !"  was  the  firm  reply. 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  There  is  no  longer  any  choice 
forme.  Oh,  mamma  !  mamma!" 

Kingsley  started  and  looked  around,  expecting  to 
meet  the  stern,  cold  eyes  of  the  woman  upon  whom 
she  called  in  so  reproachful  a  tone ;  but  there  was  no 
one  there.  Unconsciously  he  had  loosed  his  hold  of 
her  dress,  and  without  another  word  Ophelia  sped 
away.  At  the  gate  she  saw  her  father  coming  down 
the  avenue,  and  stopped  to  wait  for  Kingsley.  Both 
came  up  at  about  the  same  time. 

"  Tut,  tut !"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  laughing. 


"'GWYNNETH'S    WAKING   HOUR." 


137 


"You  are  a  little  too  large,  daughter,  for  such  races. 
Kingsley  does  not  approve  of  it  either,  I  see.  It  was 
a  little  rude  to  outrun  your  escort.  She  is  regaining 
her  health,  and  red  cheeks  besides,  and  growing  so 
rude  that  I  shall  have  to  take  her  back  to  the  city  to 
improve  her  manners." 

Mr.  Kingsley  laughed  a  little  constrainedly ;  said  she 
needed  no  improvement  that  he  could  see,  she  was 
too  good  as  it  was ;  and  then  inquired  if  Mr.  Berges 
was  going  back  to  the  city. 

Yes,  Mr.  Berges  was  going  back.  There  was  to  be 
a  convention  that  evening  for  some  local  improvement, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to  miss  a  single  opportunity  of 
extending,  improvements.  They  would  walk  to  the 
depot  together.  He  was  always  very  paternal  in  his 
manner  toward  Kingsley,  and  gave  him  much  fatherly 
counsel  whenever  they  were  together.  "  You  must  not 
forsake  us  when  Ophelia  leaves  us.  It  is  natural  for 
young  people  to  like  the  society  of  those  of  their  own 
age  best;  but  they  should  not  forget  that  the  company 
of  the  experienced  is  more  improving." 

"Your  daughter  is  to  be  married  soon?" 

"Yes,  though  I  do  not  know  how  soon.  North  is 
anxious  for  an  immediate  union,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  it  as  far  as  I  know.  He  is  an  honorable, 
sober,  and  industrious  gentleman,  and  will  make  a  good 
husband,  I  think.  I  am  very  happy  in  the  thought 
that  Ophelia,  in  case  of  my  death,  will  be  provided  with 
a  comfortable  home  and  the  means  for  preserving  her 
life  from  rude  cares.  Ophelia  has  been  too  tenderly 
reared  for  a  life  of  poverty.  She  is  not  the  sort  of 
woman  to  turn  her  talents  and  accomplishments  into 
daily  bread,  and  a  life  of  toil  and  anxiety  would  soon 
bring  her  to  her  grave.  She  is  not  anxious  for  the 
marriage,  I  own,  but  that  is  because  she  does  not  wish 
to  leave  her  own  home.  She  has  no  objections  to 
North,  and  I  have  positive  proof  of  his  attachment  for 
her ;  and  loving  daughters  like  Ophelia  make  loving 


138  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

wives,  no  matter  how  reluctantly  they  yield  themselves 
to  marriage." 

They  were  nearing  the  depot.  Kingsley  was  silent, 
and  the  old  gentleman  looked  unusually  serious  and 
thoughtful. 

"Young  man,"  he  resumed  at  length,  "you  have  a 
very  strong  hold  upon  my  affections.  I  want  to  be 
truthful  and  candid  with  you,  for  I  want  to  stand  as 
high  in  your  affectionate  regard  as  you  do  in  mine ; 
therefore,  I  will  conceal  nothing.  It  is  not  merely  be 
cause  you  are  the  son  of  a  very  dear  friend,  nor  yet 
because  of  your  own  admirable  character,  that  I  love 
you ;  it  is  because  I  loved  your  mother. ' ' 

Kingsley  turned  his  head  away.  "You  are  a  good 
man,"  he  said  in  a  strange  voice.  "I  do  not  deserve 
your  affection;  but  I  am  going  to  try  to  deserve  it.  Mr. 
Berges,  I  love  your  daughter,  but  I  here  renounce  all 
endeavor  to  obtain  her  love  in  return.  Oh,  sir  !  it  is 
very  hard  for  me  to  do  this,  for  I  had  determined  to 
win  her,  cost  what  it  might ;  and  now  I  have  no  hope — 
not  one  vestige  of  hope — of  happiness  here  or  hereafter." 

Mr.  Berges  was  wiping  his  eyes.  He  stopped,  patted 
the  young  man  on  the  back,  and,  smiling  through  his 
tears,  replied, — 

"Ah  !  that  was  very  bravely  done,  my  boy.  You  do 
not  disappoint  me.  It  is  a  hard  battle,  but  /  have 
fought  it  and  come  off  conqueror,  and  so  can  you. 
You  have  not  told  Ophelia  anything  of  this?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  recklessly,. 
"  I  told  her  this  afternoon.  That  was  why  she  was 
running  away  from  me." 

"Ophelia  is  a  good  girl,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
with  pride.  "You  are  both  young,  and  will  get  over 
this.  I  regret  more  deeply  than  ever  before  that  she  is 
not  my  own  daughter,  for  then  you  should  have  her; 
but,  poor  as  you  both  are, — and  I  am  not  able  to  help 
you, — it  is  best  that  you  should  give  her  up.  It  will 
not  hurt  you  to  have  loved  a  good  woman,  though  you 


"GWYNNETff'S    WAKING  HOUR."  139 

lose  her.  Some  day  you  may  even  take  a  pleasure  in 
being  kind  to  her  children." 

"I  must  go  away,"  interrupted  Kingsley.  "I  can 
not  endure  the  thought  of  her  marrying  that  man.  I 
should  be  tempted  to  do  some  mischief." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  awhile,"  he  returned, 
thoughtfully ;  and  then  they  walked  on  in  silence. 

"You  do  not  seem  surprised,"  suddenly  exclaimed 
Kingsley.  "You  did  not  know ?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Mr.  Berges,  smiling  gravely.  "I 
saw  it  all,  but  not  until  recently,  or  I  should  have 
spared  you  all  this  pain." 

"You  could  not  have  spared  me,  for  it  all  began  the 
very  moment  my  eyes  first  fell  upon  her,"  said  Kings- 
ley,  firmly. 

"But  an  early  separation " 

"Could  have  made  no  difference,"  persisted  the 
young  man.  But  he  intended  to  bear  it  as  bravely 
as  he  could,  though  he  never  expected  to  be  happy — 
never ! 

"  If  you  work  for  happiness,  I  can  tell  you  now  your 
labor  is  lost.  Do  whatever  your  conscience  tells  you  is 
right,  and  that  will  place  you  in  as  comfortable  rela 
tions  with  life  as  is  possible  in  this  world.  You  are 
young  and  strong, — too  strong  to  be  overmastered  by 
anything.  Ophelia  is  tender-hearted.  Your  confession 
of  love  has,  no  doubt,  established  a  sympathetic  feel 
ing  for  you  in  her  mind  ;  and  if  she  sees  you  unhappy 
upon  her  account  she  will  be  deeply  troubled." 

"  She  shall  not  know,"  said  Kingsley,  proudly. 

Is  there  too  much  love  in  my  book,  John  ?  It  may 
be  that  you  are  "elderly,"  that  your  love-experiences 
all  lie  in  the  dead  past ;  and,  your  romance  all  over 
and  filed  away  amid  the  musty  records  of  "  long  ago," 
you  are  prone  to  pronounce  all  like  experiences  "  non 
sense,"  and  "youthful  folly."  It  is  my  belief  that  the 
greater  portion  of  this  "elderly"  impatience  with 


140  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

youth's  folly  arises  from  a  petulant  regret  that  such 
pleasures  have  drifted  forever  beyond  its  own  reach ; 
or  that  it  has  grasped  bubbles  and  is  only  left  empty- 
handed.  Well,  have  patience  with  me,  if  you  can  ;  for 
I  too  will  be  growing  old  soon,  and  then  perhaps  I 
may  write  you  dissertations  upon  the  sciences,  or  meta 
physical  treatises,  which  you  can  doze  comfortably  over 
of  an  evening  ;  and  be  ready  to  chime  in  when  you 
aver  that  "all  flesh  is  grass,"  and  "there  is  nothing  new 
under  the  sun — nothing  !"  Perhaps  I  may  even  attain 
that  lofty  degree  of  unconcern  for  the  affairs  of  this 
world,  as  to  feel  entire  indifference  whether  its  people 
love  each  other,  and  practice  the  sublime  virtues  of 
patience  with  each  other's  faults  and  failings,  and  un 
complaining  endurance  of  wrong  for  right,  or  tread 
ruthlessly  through  life  by  their  own  favorite  paths, 
evading  whatever  is  unpleasant,  and  appropriating  what 
ever  increases  their  individual  comfort. 

But  no,  John, — you  may  be  elderly, — (I  confess  to  a 
penchant  for  elderly  people, — those  whose  feelings  in 
tensify — as  do  all  good  and  beautiful  things  of  real, 
intrinsic  value — with  the  flight  of  time);  your  romance 
may  be  a  thing  of  the  past ;  but  not  of  a  dead  past,  or 
you  would  not  be  here,  within  this  cloistered  retreat, 
shut  out  from  the  clack  of  the  world,  listening  with  that 
courteous,  complacent  air  of  profound  attention  to  such 
unpretentious  thoughts  as  filter  mildly  through  my  brain. 
Your  sympathies  are  broad  and  deep :  they  lie  all  along 
the  path  of  life,  and  do  not  confine  themselves  to  the 
immediate  period  or  the  immediate  phase. 

And  say,  John,  in  all  your  experiences,  have  you  not 
found  it  true  that  there  is  nothing  more  real,  and  noth 
ing  more  necessary  in  this  life,  than — love?  Ah,  that 
sly,  that  mischievous  smile  !  I  must  come  and  pat  that 
wise,  cunning  head  of  yours,  John,  if  it  is  a  little  bald. 
(Reverence,  I  fear,  was  omitted  in  my  composition.) 
Sir,  I  speak  of  love  in  a  general  and  abstract  sense.  I 
might  have  related  my  story  to  a  feminine  auditor,  only 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL. 


141 


she  would  not  have  listened  so  patiently,  nor  smiled 
and  complimented  and  flattered  so  assiduously.  And 
then  she  might  have  felt  constrained  to  utter  some  un 
palatable  truths.  When  I  was  tedious  and  common 
place,  she  would  have  said  bluntly,  "You  are  tedious 
and  commonplace,"  and  the  soothing  effect  of  endear 
ing  prefixes  to  one's  name,  or  anything  of  that  sort, 
would  never  have  occurred  to  her.  Under  those  circum 
stances,  how  dull,  how  discouraging,  my  task  would  have 
been  ! 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE   OBSTINATE   ANGEL. 

THE  wearisome  summer  was  over,  and  the  Berges 
family  were  back  again  in  their  respectable  residence  on 

C Street.  The  theatre  had  opened,  the  city  people 

flocked  back,  and  concerts,  soirees,  and  parties  of  all 
sorts  began  again.  Mr.  North  accompanied  Ophelia 
everywhere,  and  their  marriage  was  a  common  theme, 
except  at  home ;  there  it  was  never  mentioned. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Berges  one  day  at  the 
table  (he  seldom  saw  her  now  except  at  the  table,  so 
solitary  and  unsocial  had  become  her  habits),  "  when 
is  that  wedding  of  yours  to  come  off?  I  see  no  signs 
as  yet  of  anything  unusual  going  on.  And  my  pocket- 
book,  which  I  had  expected  to  see  pillaged  of  its  last 
farthing,  remains  undisturbed." 

"  Are  you  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me,  papa?"  She 
did  not  look  up  as  she  said  this,  and  her  restless  fingers 
performed  a  lively  chime  upon  her  wine-glass. 

"You  know,  Ophelia,"  returned  papa,  "that  this 
house  will  be  like  a  tomb  when  you  have  gone  out  of 


142  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

it.  But  there  is  some  one  else  whose  claims  are  stronger 
than  ours,  and  who  complains  loudly  of  your  indiffer 
ence,  and  insists  upon  immediate  possession  of  his 
rightful  property." 

The  chime  upon  the  glass  continued  for  some  time 
uninterrupted,  during  which  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Berges 
observed  their  daughter  attentively. 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  live  long,  to  marry  anyone," 
she  said,  at  length. 

Her  audience  looked  astonished. 

"Why,  Ophelia!"  exclaimed  her  father.  "What 
makes  you  think  you  are  going  to  die  ?  Have  you  any 
disease?" 

"  No;  but  I  feel  assured  that  my  life  is  not  to  be  a 
long  one." 

Her  father  looked  at  the  slight  form  and  pale  cheek, 
and  remarked  for  the  first  time  how  fast  their  little 
ruddiness  and  stability  were  ebbing  away,  and  thought, 
with  alarm,  that  her  words  were  likely  to  come  true. 

"We  must  have  a  physician,"  he  said,  decidedly. 

But  Ophelia  would  have  no  physician.  It  was  re 
markable,  the  stubbornness  this  angelic  creature  could 
display  when  her  will  was  opposed.  She  had  no  dis 
ease  :  where  was  the  use  of  medicine  ?  Her  constitu 
tion  was  simply  failing,  and  no  medicine  could  restore 
it.  Mrs.  Berges  scouted  the  idea,  but  it  took  deeper 
hold  upon  the  mind  of  her  father. 

"  She  shall  not  be  forced  into  a  marriage  that  is  not 
entirely  agreeable  to  her.  Mr.  North  is  a  very  clever 
gentleman,  no  doubt,  but  I  think  myself  that  he  is 
rather  cold  and  selfish.  I  will  speak  to  him  on  the 
subject.  He  will  not  want  an  invalid  for  a  wife,  I  am 
sure. ' ' 

Upon  the  first  opportunity  he  stated  the  case  to 
Mr.  North.  "The  fact  is,  her  health  is  not  good  at 
all,  and  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that,  if  you  marry 
her  now,  you  will  have  an  invalid  on  your  hands.  The 
state  of  the  case  releases  you  altogether,  and  Ophelia 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL.  143 

has  no  desire  under  the  circumstances  to  hold  you  to 
the  contract." 

If  this  had  occurred  in  the  first  of  their  engage 
ment,  no  doubt  Mr.  North  would  readily  have  accepted 
his  release,  and  perhaps  with  congratulations  upon  his 
escape  from  a  bad  bargain.  But  he  had  become  strongly 
attached  to  the  kind,  docile,  affectionate  girl,  who 
always,  except  in  this  instance,  consulted  his  wishes 
and  comfort  in  preference  to  her  own, — who  was  pa 
tient  with  his  jealousies  and  fault-finding,  and  with 
whom  his  whole  future  seemed  now  irrevocably  inter 
woven.  He  was  a  man  of  settled  habits,  and  liked  no 
sudden  changes.  He  became  attached  by  degrees,  and 
his  affections  were  not  to  be  suddenly  detached. 

He  replied  that  he  was  very  sorry  indeed — and  the 
old  gentleman  could  see  that  he  spoke  the  truth,  and 
that  she  must  have  a  physician.  He  wanted  no  release ; 
she  might  suit  herself  in  regard  to  the  time  of  their 
marriage ;  but  she  must  hurry  and  get  well.  Her  life 
was  too  precious  to  have  the  least  part  of  it  wasted  in 
illness.  He  would  come  up  and  talk  to  her  about  it; 
and  so  the  conference  ended. 

He  came  up  and  "talked  to  her  about  it,"  and 
looked  greatly  concerned  for  her  welfare  ;  but  nothing 
was  said  about  dissolving  the  engagement. 

"You  won't  have  any  medicine,  Ophelia,  what  do 
you  want  ?' '  said  her  father  one  day,  when  she  had  flatly 
declined  taking  anything. 

"I  should  like  to  go  to  the  country  and  spend  a 
few  days  with  Adele  better  than  anything  else,"  she 
replied. 

"It  is  growing  too  chilly  to  travel  in  any  comfort," 
said  her  father,  "  and  I  cannot  leave  just  now  to  go  with 
you.  Perhaps  North  can." 

"  North  !  North  !"  she  exclaimed,  petulantly.  "  Am 
I  never  to  get  out  of  sight  or  sound  of  North?  You 
must  consider  me  exceedingly  helpless  not  to  be  able  to 
go  that  short  distance  alone." 


144  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

She  talked  so  spiritedly  about  the  trip,  and  seemed  to 
brighten  so  in  anticipation  of  it,  that  it  was  decided 
she  should  go,  and  without  "North." 

"But  some  one  must  accompany  you  to  Jonestown, 
and  get  you  a  room — for  it  will  be  better  for  you  to 
stay  there  all  night,  instead  of  making  the  whole  jour 
ney  in  a  day,  and  engage  a  conveyance  to  take  you  the 
next  day  out  to  Hughes's." 

Mr.  Haddon,  a  trusty  clerk,  was  the  person  selected 
for  that  important  business.  Mrs.  Berges,  upon  bidding 
her  "good-by,"  advised  her  to  bring  her  lively  friend 
home  with  her,  who  she  thought  possibly  could  get  her 
out  of  that  stupid  notion  about  dying. 

Mr.  Haddon  performed  his  part  like  a  well-ordered 
machine :  engaged  a  room  in  the  big  barn  of  a  hotel ; 
had  a  fire  lighted  in  it ;  engaged  a  hack  for  the  next 
day ;  put  her  baggage  in  charge  of  the  clerk ;  paid  all 
the  bills  and  set  sail  for  the  city,  thanking  his  stars  that 
he  lived  in  no  such  rusty,  antiquated  place  as  Jones 
town. 

He  gave  Mr.  Berges  a  minute  account  of  the  trip, 
omitting,  however,  the  trifling  fact  that  Ophelia  had 
fallen  in  getting  out  of  the  cars  at  Jonestown,  and 
slightly  sprained  her  foot,  which  had  been  no  fault 
of  his. 

It  furnished  an  entirely  new  sensation  to  Ophelia  to 
find  herself  entirely  alone  and  disregarded  in  that  strange 
old  hotel.  And  as  she  sat  in  her  old-fashioned  room  and 
looked  through  the  little  clean  windows,  upon  the  rustic 
town,  her  mind  was  drawn  away  from  herself  and  her 
trials. 

Fancy  a  squad  of  pensive-looking  dwellings,  with  a 
"sprinkling"  of  shops  and  "stores"  mustered  together 
upon  a  rusty  common,  and  you  have  the  village  of 
Jonestown.  The  spirit  of  enterprise  gave  no  disturb 
ing  call  to  its  contented  inhabitants.  An  atmosphere 
of  dreamy  languor  enveloped  the  whole  town;  and  Ophe 
lia  settled  herself  in  her  easy  chair  with  a  sigh  of 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL.  14$ 

content,  and,  crossing  her  feet  upon  the  fender,  gave 
herself  up  to  careless  reverie. 

The  wind  rattled  at  the  casement,  the  fire  burned 
cheerily,  and  Ophelia,  always  ready  to  accept  any  en 
joyment  which  chance  threw  in  her  way, — free  to 
wander  in  thought  whither  she  would,  with  no  one 
near  to  remind  her  of  any  unpleasant  obligation  or 
fetter, — for  once  yielded  to  the  sweet  guidance  of  her 
fancy. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour's  musing  she  started  suddenly, 
and  a  faint  tinge  of  red  suffused  her  cheeks.  Whose 
face  had  mingled  with  her  dreams?  She  opened  her 
watch,  looked  upon  the  cold,  hard  countenance  por 
trayed  within,  and  closed  it  almost  immediately,  with  a 
sigh.  Not  that  one.  Her  dream  ended  with  a  glimpse 
of  it,  and  she  arose  immediately  and  walked  restlessly 
about  the  room. 

"  Oh,  God,  spare  me  the  misery  that  must  follow  upon 
such  a  union!"  was  her  bitter  cry.  "And  why,  why 
was  that  other  thrown  upon  my  path,  to  show  me  by 
contrast  with  what  an  unsuited  nature  I  must  ally  my 
own?  Was  it  not  cruel,  when  there  was  no  escape? 
Oh,  Father,  be  merciful !  send  any  misfortune  but  that !" 

At  last  she  sat  down  a  little  composed.  Her  heart  had 
been  aroused  for  some  purpose.  She  could  love  ! — she 
felt  it  now.  Heavens  !  how  she  could  love  !  If  he 
would  only  come  again,  and  bring  back  the  sunshine 
to  her  life, — if  but  for  a  brief  season, — she  could  go  on 
her  thorny  way  a  little  more  patiently.  If  he  would 
only  meet  her  here  !  She  did  not  care  what  might 
happen,  if  he  would  only  come.  Her  thoughts  had 
been  imprisoned  so  long,  and  now  that  they  were  un 
loosed,  almost  drove  her  mad  with  importunate  de 
mands  for  the  satisfying  of  their  own  desire. 

But  this  wild  mood  did  not  continue  long.     She  shut 

out  the  twilight  and  lit  the  lamp.      Then  she  spread 

her  fashion  books,  and  began  to  calculate  the  cost  of  her 

trousseau,  and  to  think  of  Adele,  and  the  old  country- 

G  13 


146  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

house,  and  Herve  (she  liked  Herve,  and  hoped  he 
would  be  there),  and  so  she  conquered  her  tyrannical 
rebellious  mood,  and  slept  sounder  that  night  than  she 
had  for  many  weeks. 

When  she  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  chamber-maid 
was  pounding  upon  the  door  and  calling  her  to  break 
fast.  She  arose  drowsily,  but  upon  placing  her  feet 
upon  the  floor,  found  that  the  sprained  one  was  nearly 
twice  as  large  as  the  other,  and  that  it  protested  severely 
against  being  walked  upon.  She  made  her  toilette  with 
difficulty  and,  with  one  shoe  "  slip-shod,"  hobbled  to 
ward  the  dining-room.  She  reached  the  steps  descend 
ing  to  the  first  floor,  when,  finding  that  she  could  pro 
ceed  no  farther,  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  and  wai« 
for  assistance,  there  being  no  such  thing  as  a  call-bell 
in  the  whole  house. 

Her  solitary  situation  had  lost  its  charm.  After  a 
long  while  a  soiled-looking  waiter  passed.  It  was  no 
time  to  be  dainty,  so  Ophelia  appealed  to  him  for 
assistance.  One's  apparel  she  discovered  to  be  an 
unsafe  index  to  the  disposition, — inasmuch  as  the  tender, 
respectful  bearing  of  the  uncouth  waiter  was  in  marked 
contrast  to  his  rugged  exterior. 

As  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps,  several  gentle 
men  emerged  from  the  dining-room  and  deployed  past, 
glancing  curiously  at  the  odd  pair.  One  of  them  sud 
denly  paused,  hesitated  a  moment, — only  a  moment, — 
then  sprang  forward  and  snatched  her,  almost  rudely, 
from  the  waiter.  It  was  Hal  Ripley. 

"What  has  happened?  What  are  you  doing  here 
alone?  Where  was  that  old  cuss  taking  you?" 

Ophelia  thanked  the  waiter  kindly  before  she  at 
tempted  a  reply  to  his  numerous  inquiries.  Then  she 
explained:  she  was  on  her  way  to  Mr.  Hughes's;  she 
had  sprained  her  foot;  and  that  old  gentleman  was 
taking  her  to  the  dining-room.  She  took  his  arm  and 
went  in  to  breakfast.  Although  Ophelia  felt  a  little  re 
lieved  at  the  sight  of  some  one  who  knew  her,  she  was 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL. 


147 


very  sorry  that  it  was  Hal.  If  it  had  only  been  Kingsley  ! 
But  nothing  ever  happens  as  nice  and  romantic  in  real 
life  as  it  does  in  books.  It  was  raining  too,  and  it 
was  likely  she  would  have  to  remain  all  day.  Perhaps, 
however,  Hal  might  be  in  a  hurry,  and  would  go  on. 

But  no, — Hal  was  in  no  hurry,  and  settled  himself 
comfortably  upon  the  sofa  in  the  old-fashioned  parlor, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  is  bent  on  mischief.  Hereto 
fore,  when  they  had  met,  he  had  looked  moody  and 
sullen,  and  had  tormented  her  with  reproaches  and  im 
portunate  appeals.  Now  that  he  found  her  alone  and 
completely  at  his  mercy,  he  entertained  himself,  and 
excited  her,  with  protestations  of  love,  and  familiarities 
which  his  manner  made  an  insult. 

Throughout  that  dreadful  rainy  day  she  concealed,  as 
best  she  could,  her  dislike  and  her  dread  of  him, — it 
had  come  to  that, — and  tried  to  be  patient.  All  that 
night  she  tossed,  nervous  and  wide  awake,  until  dawn 
brought  a  few  hours  of  disturbed  slumber.  The  drizzly 
morning  was  far  advanced  when  she  awoke  to  a  day  as 
much  to  be  dreaded  as  the  preceding. 

"Hal,  you  must  leave  here  to-day,  or  /will,"  she 
said,  as  she  sat  by  the  parlor  window,  with  her  tor 
mentor  sitting  very  near.  She  would  have  gone  to  her 
own  room,  only  Hal  declared  that  he  would  go  too ; 
and  she  believed  him  capable  of  almost  anything  that 
would  facilitate  his  own  amusement.  "  The  people 
here  observe  us  rather  too  curiously.  Really,  Hal, 
they  begin  to  look  suspicious." 

Mr.  Ripley's  only  reply  was  to  smile  malevolently 
and  reach  over  and  readjust  her  scarf  lovingly  about 
her  shoulders.  This  in  full  view  of  the  landlady  and  a 
few  others,  who  pretended  not  to  be  observing. 

"Hal!"  said  Ophelia,  in  a  peremptory  tone,  "go 
and  tell  the  clerk  that  I  wish  to  see  him." 

"  What  for,  darling  ?' '  was  the  distinctly  audible  reply. 

"I  want  him, — that  is  sufficient.  If  you  won't 
go,  I'll  call  one  of  the  servants.  I  am  going  to  leave 


I48  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

here  immediately.  I  regret  now  that  I  did  not  go  yes 
terday.  ' ' 

"  In  the  rain  ?"  he  queried,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  in  the  rain. "  She  beckoned  one  of  the  servants 
to  her.  "Tell  the  clerk  I  wish  to  see  him  a  few  minutes." 

In  a  few  moments  the  clerk  stood  before  her. 

"Will  you  tell  the  hackman — I  believe  you  have 
but  one  here," — she  did  not  smile,  though  the  clerk 
did  rather  sourly — "to  have  his  vehicle  ready  in  half 
an  hour?  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you." 

The  clerk  said  "Certainly,"  glanced  at  the  elegant 
young  gentleman  lounging  beside  her,  who  reddened 
slightly  under  his  scrutiny,  and,  with  a  profound  bow, 
made  his  exit. 

"  You  should  not  go  in  the  rain,  Ophelia,  however 
urgent  the  trip,"  the  disinterested  listeners  heard  the 
"  elegant  young  gentleman"  say.  "  Your  health  is  too 
delicate  to  risk  such  exposure.  However,  if  you  are 
determined  to  go,  I  will  go  with  you. ' ' 

"Hal,  you  shall  not!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  under 
her  breath. 

"  But  I  will!" 

And  sure  enough,  the  village  gossips  saw  the  gay 
cavalier  hand  the  pretty  young  lady  into  the  carriage, 
place  himself  beside  her,  and  tenderly  wrap  the  buffalo- 
robe  about  her  to  ward  off  the  rain,  for  the  windows 
were  broken ;  and  as  they  disappeared  from  view,  one 
gave  voice  to  the  thoughts  of  all.  "  Rather  a  singular 
couple  !  What  are  they,  I  wonder  ?  Lovers,  or  what?" 

Splash  !  splash  !  splash  !  Rain,  mud,  and  chilly 
winds  united  to  make  the  ride  insufferable.  Ophelia 
sat  as  quiet  as  was  possible  upon  such  a  road,  looking 
straight  before  her, — never  once  glancing  toward  the 
young  gentleman  beside  her,  who  leaned  back  luxuri 
ously,  with  his  feet  upon  the  seat  in  front,  and  his  arm 
thrown  carelessly  upon  the  back  of  the  one  they  both 
occupied.  Frequently  she  was  thrown  almost  into  his 
arms,  and  always  met  with  some  mockingly  endearing 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL. 


149 


epithet,  and  occasionally  a  caress ;  but  she  gave  no 
more  evidence  of  consciousness  than  if  she  had  been  a 
dressmaker's  figure. 

Her  features  were  firmly  set,  her  lips  locked  in  silent 
endurance ;  but  what  a  storm  was  going  on  within  ! 
There  were  ugly  thoughts  within  the  "angel's"  mind 
just  then.  It  were  almost  wicked  to  describe  the  fierce 
hatred  and  resentment  that  had  possession  of  her 
thoughts  at  that  moment.  The  rain  was  nothing.  I 
fear  she  would  have  taken  an  exquisite  pleasure  in  in 
flicting  some  acute  pain  upon  her  loving  companion 
just  then,  the  indignant  blood  surged  so  savagely 
through  her  veins. 

But  Hal  soon  wearied  of  this,  and  began  to  apostro 
phize  Ophelia  as  a  "beautiful  statue"  ;  but  the  statue 
giving  no  signs  of  life,  he  proceeded  further  in  his 
efforts  to  warm  it  into  consciousness,  and  wound  his 
arm  about  her  waist.  It  was  ice  and  fire,  but  the  ice 
did  not  melt :  for  the  fire  though  fierce  was  small. 

"  I  wish  North  could  see  this,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
laugh.  "Wouldn't  it  make  the  old  prig  swear?  You 
won't  talk?  Well,  then,  I'll  kiss  you.  I  must  enter 
tain  myself  some  way.  You  used  to  let  me  kiss  you, 
and  I  see  no  difference  now." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  This  is  too  much  !  Let  me  go, 
Hal !  There, — some  one  is  coming."  She  burst  into 
tears ;  but,  of  course,  the  sight  of  them  did  not  touch 
him. 

"You  do  not  look  any  uglier,  Ophelia.  I'll  swear 
you  look  prettier  than  before." 

A  horseman  approached.  He  was  wrapped  in  an 
oil-cloth  cloak  and  his  hat  was  slouched  over  his  eyes. 
He  paused  involuntarily,  pushed  back  his  hat,  and 
looked  fixedly  at  the  two  occupants  of  the  carriage. 
Ophelia's  eyes  were  downcast,  her  cheeks  aflame.  Hal 
nodded  insolently,  without  change  of  position,  and 
Ophelia  looked  up.  The  horseman  bowed  distantly 
and  hastened  on.  Both  parties  had  a  good  look  at 

13* 


!5o  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

each  other.     There  was  a  startled,  affrighted  look  on 
Ophelia's  face.     Ripley  laughed. 

"Ah,  you  recognized  your  dear  friend?  I  have  not 
the  honor  of  his  acquaintance,  but  I  know  him  as  the 
dear,  devoted  friend  of  my  darling." 

Yes,  it  was  her  "  dear  friend."  How  she  had  longed 
for  a  glimpse  of  that  pure,  spiritual  face,  through  the 
dreary  weeks  that  had  passed  since  that  memorable 
evening  when  it  had  gone  out  of  her  presence  so  sud 
denly  !  Well,  she  had  seen  it ;  she  had  a  vivid  picture  in 
her  mind  of  its  features,  and,  more  than  all,  its  expres 
sion.  Now,  why  not  go  on  your  way  content,  Ophelia? 

"You  call  this  love,  Hal  Ripley!"  she  exclaimed, 
turning  passionately  upon  him.  "  The  very  brutes 
would  be  outraged  by  such  treatment.  You  do  not 
care  for  me ;  you  care  only  for  yourself.  I  would 
rather  die,  this  minute,  than  marry  you!" 

The  frozen  statue  at  length  had  melted,  but  simply 
enough  to  extinguish  the  fire.  Hal  frowned,  bit  his 
lip,  and  withdrew  his  arm. 

There  was  not  much  more  said,  and  Ophelia  sat 
scornful  and  defiant,  Hal  stiff  and  sullen,  during  the 
remainder  of  the  drive.  "  Love  ! — he  would  ruin  and 
blight  rny  life  if  he  dared.  He  would  have  his  pleas 
ure,  though  it  made  me  an  object  of  misery  and  scorn. 
And  the  world  too  would  call  it  love.  Oh,  God  !  is 
there  anything  better  in  this  life?" 

Adele  received  her  friend  with  rapture.  Mr.  Ripley 
returned  immediately,  after  hoping,  in  the  iciest  tone, 
that  Ophelia  would  have  a  pleasant  visit.  She  thanked 
him  in  the  pleasantest  tone  she  had  yet  used,  she  was 
so  glad  to  be  rid  of  him. 

For  a  few  days  the  two  friends  were  quite  vivacious 
and  unremitting  in  conversation ;  but  by  that  time 
mere  incidents  had  become  scarce,  and  their  chat 
began  to  flag ;  and  Adele  observed  that  her  friend  now 
and  then  sank  into  moods  of  deep  and  gloomy  reverie, 
from  which  she  aroused  herself  with  difficulty.  She 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL.  I^I 

had  only  confided  to  her  friend  the  merest  surface  of 
her  thoughts.  She  had  not  even  informed  her  of  her 
engagement.  How  should  she  excuse  herself  for  having 
entered  into  it?  She  felt  that  Adele  could  never  have 
been  drawn  into  any  such  false  position. 

"Ophelia,  you  tell  me  nothing,"  complained  her 
friend.  "While  I  pour  out  my  whole  heart  and  his 
tory  to  you,  you  lock  your  real  feelings  out  of  my 
sight  and  reach.  Have  you  discovered  that  I  am  not 
the  friend  you  want  ?  I  know  that  my  friendship  is  no 
particular  honor  or  recommendation  to  any  one ;  but 
at  least  it  is  sincere,  and  that  you  will  not  find  in  all." 

."I  told  you  what  I  thought  would  interest  you, 
Adele.  The  rest  is  stupid,  and  would  make  even  me 
dull  in  telling  it." 

"  I  see  ! — I  understand  !  Never  mind,  then,  Ophelia. 
It  makes  no  difference,  and  it  was  impolite  in  me  to 
mention  it."  And  Adele  arose  and  walked  away,  lest 
her  friend  should  feel  constrained  to  reveal  what  she 
preferred  to  preserve  secret. 

"  Come  back,  Adele.  I  will  tell  you  all,  if  I  can." 
She  drew  her  hand  slowly  over  her  features,  as  if  to 
arrange  them  for  the  ordeal. 

"No,  no,  Ophelia;  I  will  not  listen.  It  was  very 
wrong, — I  see  it  now, — to  drive  you  into  a  confession 
which  you  could  not  make  voluntarily." 

Ophelia  felt  that  a  crisis  had  arrived  in  their  friend 
ship,  when  it  was  necessary  that  her  friend  should  know 
what  was  transpiring  in  her  mind ;  and  yet  how  she 
shrank  from  a  revelation  ! 

"Adele,"  she  said,  in  that  mild,  firm  tone  to  which 
the  impetuous  nature  always  yielded.  "  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  the  whole  truth  of  my  heart.  If  you  care  to 
hear  it,  stay ;  if  not,  I  shall  be  sorry,  for  in  this  in 
stance  I  deserve  pity,  not  resentment.  I  could  accept 
it  from  no  one  but  you;  and  that  is  all  the  recital 
will  excite  in  your  mind." 

Adele  resumed  her  chair  in  silence. 


152  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

"You  give  me  no  encouragement !  You  look  stern 
and  cold  !  Heavens  !  how  hard  it  is  to  bare  one's 
heart  to  the  scrutiny  of  human  eyes,  however  kindly  !" 

Onc6  more  she  passed  her  hand  over  her  face,  and 
some  of  its  apathy  seemed  to  pass  away, — her  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  That  was  enough  for  Adele.  "  I 
am  a  very  fiend  to  drive  you  to  this  !  But  tell  me  :  I 
can  help  you  to  bear  it,  if  it  must  be  borne.  See  how 
strong  I  am.  Nothing  hurts  me." 

There  !  that  is  like  you,  Adele,"  said  Ophelia,  cheer 
fully,  wiping  her  eyes.  (How  quickly  sympathy  dries 
our  tears  !)  And  then  she  began  at  the  beginning  : 
her  reluctant  betrothal ;  her  growing  dislike  to  Mr. 
North ;  and  finally  her  hatred  of  his  disposition  and 
character,  as  a  closer  association  revealed  it  to  her ; 
.his  greed  for  riches ;  his  oppression  of  the  poor ;  his 
tyranny  over  those  beneath  him ;  and,  worse  than  all, 
a  corrupt  private  life.  She  made  no  attempt  to  excuse 
her  own  weakness,  for  Ophelia  began  at  length  to  see 
her  own  faultiness.  And  now  Adele  saw  her  falter 
and  shrink,  and  she  knew  that  the  hardest  part  of  her 
confession  was  yet  to  come.  Her  breath  came  shorter, 
and  a  flame  flashed  into  her  cheek,  as  she  began  to 
tell  of  the  "young  Southerner,"  the  "son  of  her 
father's  friend  ;"  but  she  persevered  in  her  recital,  even 
to  that  last  glimpse  of  him  through  the  carriage  window. 

When  she  had  concluded,  Adele  arose  as  if  to  address 
an  audience.  "  No  one  should  make  a  martyr  of  her 
self,  to  please  any  human  being  !  Married  to  Mr. 
North  !  I  would  as  soon  see  you  dead.  You  shall  not 
marry  him,  if  I  can  prevent  it  by  fair  means  or  foul !" 

"  Your  interference  can  do  no  good,  Adele.  It 
would  only  make  matters  worse.  There  is  no  help  for 
me.  I  have  been  wicked,  and  it  is  but  just  that  I  should 
suffer.  It»  is  said  that  our  strength  is  always  equal  to 
every  requirement;  but  I  do  not  believe  it  !  I  believe 
thousands  sink  under  burdens  too  great  for  their  strength. 
Don't  look  so  troubled.  All  will  be  well  some  day." 


THE    OBSTINATE  ANGEL.  153 

She  had  not  only  sold  her  birthright,  but  had  ig- 
norantly  defrauded  herself  of  the  blessing.  Now, 
there  was  nothing  better  to  be  done  than  to  content 
herself,  as  best  she  could,  with  her  tasteless  mess  of 
pottage.  But  Adele  was  not  so  resigned,  and  made 
dire  threats  of  what  she  would  do  in  her  friend's  behalf. 

I  am  conscious,  John,  that  my  heroine,  at  the  present 
stage  of  her  affairs,  cuts  a  sorry  figure.  But  an  inex 
orable  conscientiousness  urges  me  into  a  confession  of 
the  truth  at  all  hazards.  Women,  though  as  a  general 
thing  much  more  sensible  than  men,  are  occasionally 
as  great  idiots. 

I  believe  it  is  the  general  habit  of  feminine  writers 
to  assign  the  whole  business  of  love  to  men.  The 
heroine  generally  figures  as  a  guileless,  unsuspecting, 
helpless  victim,  seeking  desperately  to  escape  the  toils 
of  a  whole  mob  of  lovers.  Every  lady  whom  I  have 
ever  known  to  be  surrounded  by  lovers  had  somewhat 
to  do  with  the  collection  herself. 

"Love,  in  some  sort,  is  essential  to  woman,"  says 
the  crafty  courtier  St.  Evremond,  the  life-long  friend 
and  lover  of  Ninon  de  L'Enclos.  "  If  you  cannot 
storm  the  citadel  of  a  woman's  affections,  at  least  make 
yourself  master  of  the  bastion  of  her  intellect.  Love, 
love,  love!  their  hearts  are  never  free  from  it." 

But,  wise  as  he  thought  himself,  St.  Evremond  did 
not  know  everything,  and  afterward  was  constrained  to 
confess  that  he  had  occasionally  met  women  endowed 
with  all  affection  and  tenderness,  unaccompanied  by 
love. 


'54 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN. 

"  AND  so  that  Miss  Hughes  is  back  again ! ' '  exclaimed 
Miss  Fischer,  as  she  leveled  her  opera-glass  at  the  object 
of  her  remark.  "  And  in  one  of  Ophelia's  dresses, 
I'll  vow!  As  vain  and  conceited  as  ever  I  perceive; 
just  look,  will  you,  how  coolly  she  surveys  the  audience  ! 
as  if  she  had  been  accustomed  to  nothing  else ;  and  I'll 
bet  anything  she  never  even  heard  of  an  opera  before 
last  winter." 

Mr.  Ripley  followed  the  direction  of  his  companion's 
opera-glass ;  but  he  looked  at  Ophelia,  who,  in  a  regal 
toilette,  sat  cold  and  silent  at  the  side  of  her  dignified 
fiance,  looking  about  with  keen,  questioning  eyes,  at 
everybody  and  everything ;  now  and  then  nodding  to 
an  acquaintance,  but  never  smiling. 

"I  never  liked  Miss  Hughes,"  returned  Hal,  "and 
I  think  she  exerts  a  very  bad  influence  over  Ophelia. 
I  can  see  a  great  change  in  Ophelia's  disposition  since 
she  first  came.  She  is  a  very  handsome  young  lady,  but 
for  all  that,  I  fear  Miss  Hughes  has  set  her  heart  upon 
a  prize  which  she  will  never  obtain." 
'  "You  mean  Sid  Waltman?"  said  Miss  Fischer, 
smiling  (instead  of  slapping  his  face,  as  the  creature 
deserved). 

"Sid  will  never  wed  a  poor  girl :  he  likes  his  ease 
too  well  for  that ;  and  Sid  is  ambitious.  All  that  time 
spent  at  Long  Branch  last  summer  was  not  wasted  in 
pursuit  of  that  Nevada  heiress,  as  was  supposed.  He 
was  studying  and  wire-working  for  his  political  ad 
vancement.  And,  already,  Sid  Waltman  is  considered 
a  rising  man." 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  155 

"  Did  he  really  address  that  Nevada  girl?"  inquired 
Miss  Fischer,  with  a  pretty  toss  of  her  haughty  head. 

"Certainly,"  returned  Ripley.  "Sid  related  the 
whole  story  at  the  club,  and  threw  the  boys  into  con 
vulsions  with  his  comic  imitations  of  his  charmer." 

"The  rascal!"  exclaimed  Miss  Fischer,  coloring 
slightly.  "I  suppose  you  members  of  gay  clubs  make 
it  a  matter  of  course  to  tell  everything  a  lady  says  to 
you,  upon  such  occasions." 

' '  Yes, ' '  returned  Ripley ;  ' '  only,  when  we  are  in  dead 
earnest,  then  we  tell  nothing." 

"I  wonder  if  Sid  tells  what  Miss  Hughes  says  to 
him?"  said  Miss  Fischer,  musingly. 

"He  has  made  a  few  boasts  in  that  direction,"  re 
turned  Hal,  and  then  discreetly  changed  the  subject. 

Sid  was  with  Miss  Hughes  to-night,  and  almost 
every  other  night.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his 
uncle's  advice  and  his  own  resolutions.  Her  beauty 
and  her  wit  made  her  a  power  not  to  be  disregarded  in 
the  circle^vvhere  she  had  been  received  as  an  interloper. 
Her  toilette,  though  simple,  was  artistic,  and  no  one 
ever  cared  whether  the  material  was  inexpensive  or 
costly.  Adele  was  not  only  gay  this  season,  she  was 
happy;  and  every  one.  knows  that  happiness,  if  not 
locked  within  a  stingy,  narrow  heart,  is  contagious. 
Adele  was  generous  with  her  superabundance  of  content, 
and  distributed  it  at  random.  She  would  listen  as 
earnestly  to  the  neglected  old  lady  in  the  corner,  re 
lating  the  gay  doings  of  her  day,  as  to  the  traveled  celeb 
rity,  telling  of  miraculous  adventures  in  foreign  lands. 

Without  doubt,  Sid  was  deeply  in  love,  and  their 
marriage  began  to  be  talked  of  as  a  sure  thing.  Every 
thing  seemed  to  be  going  on  swimmingly.  The  course 
of  true  love,  was  like  a  race-track, — so  smooth  was  it, — 
until  a  breach  was  made  by  a  pretty  heiress  from  Pitts- 
burg, — a  coal-merchant's  only  daughter,  who,  with  her 
parents,  had,  for  some  reason  or  other,  transferred  their 
residence  to  LC/  Y. 


156  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

Viola  Ball  was  a  "beauty."  That  is,  she  had  a  pretty, 
childish  face,  a  pink-and-white  complexion,  and  the 
most  innocent  blue  eyes  in  the  world,  and  such  sweet 
simplicity  of  manner ! 

She  stepped  right  into  the  hearts  of  all  the  marriage 
able  young  gentlemen  of  L ,  and  created  a  "stir" 

generally.  Sid  had  been  too  accustomed  to  leading  in 
the  train  of  the  reigning  belle  of  the  hour,  not  to  be 
swerved  from  his  present  divinity.  So  he  danced  and 
chatted  quite  as  much  as  any  with  the  new  star. 

"Such  a  nice,  adaptable  creature!"  he  thought. 
"  One  could  twirl  her  around  his  little  finger  ;  and  that 
is  the  sort  of  wife  for  an  ambitious  man  to  have,  who 
wants  none  of  your  sharp  women  with  a  thousand  eyes, 
prying  into  his  affairs.  And  how  she  would  love  a 
fellow  and  give  up  to  him  !  It  would  be  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world,  managing  the  little  goose." 

Gradually  he  forsook  Adele, —  not  for  good ;  even  if 
he  married  the  pretty  coal-merchant's  daughter  (and 
having  examined  into  the  coal-merchant's  affairs  and 
found  them  substantial,  Sid  was  not  long  in  making  up 
his  mind_  on  that  point),  he  could  smooth  it  all  over 
with  Adele,  and  go  on  the  same  as  before,  loving  her  and 
letting  her  love  him.  Of  course  there  were  plenty  of 
ill-natured  people  who  were  happy  to  witness  Adele's 
decline  in  Sid's  affections, — people  who  had  prophe 
sied  it,  and  people  who  had  envied  her,  simply  because 
envy  was  the  natural  and  spontaneous  product  of  their 
little  hearts.  Only  there  was  one  drawback  to  their 
enjoyment, — Adele's  continued  happiness  and  gayety. 
She  received  more  attention  than  ever,  and  never  before 
had  she  been  so  recklessly  gay. 

"How  do  you  like  the  coal-merchant's  daughter, 
Sid?"  inquired  a  lady  one  evening,  in  Adele's  hearing. 

"You  will  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Harper,  if  I  decline  to 
express  my  opinion  of  the  coal-merchant's  daughter 
until  I  have  satisfactory  proof  of  what  the  coal  mer 
chant's  daughter  thinks  of  me,"  was  the  discreet  reply. 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN. 


157 


"She  is  very  lovely!"  sighed  an  admirer,  who 
"followed"  afar  off. 

"And  so  tender-hearted!"  said  another.  "You 
should  have  seen  her  crying  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 
over  the  misfortunes  of  Enoch  Arden  ;  and  then  how 
prettily  she  blushed  and  put  up  her  fan  when  she  found 
some  dozen  opera-glasses  leveled  at  her  !" 

Mrs.  Harper  laughed  softly.  She  was  reminded  of 
another  scene  that  had  occurred  upon  that  same  evening, 
which  she  had  chanced  to  witness, — Viola  boxing  her 
maid's  ears  and  spitefully  tearing  down  her  hair  because 
some  unimportant  arrangement  displeased  her.  And 
she  knew  the  poor  creature  was  half  dead  with  the  head 
ache  too.  How  were  these  unsophisticated  youths  to 
know  that  all  of  the  coal-merchant's  daughter's  attract 
iveness  lay  immediately  upon  the  surface,  when  that 
young  lady  did  not  know  it  herself,  but  firmly  believed 
herself  as  near  fitted  to  dwell  with  the  angels  as  any 
human  being  in  existence?  Viola  was  very  lenient  in 
her  judgment  of  herself.  Her  good  deeds,  conspicuous 
from  their  very  scarcity,  she  treasured  everlastingly  in 
her  memory,  and  impressed  indelibly  upon  the  memories 
of  those  about  her  by  continual  reminders,  while  her 
evil  ones  she  immediately  forgot  and  forgave.  That 
was  Viola  Ball,  about  whom  the  young  gentlemen  of 

L raved   as   "an  angel,"   "paragon,"   etc.,   and 

whom  any  one  of  them  would  have  considered  himself 
infinitely  blessed  in  procuring  in  marriage. 

Although  in  public  Sid  gave  his  attention  only  to 
the  coal-merchant's  daughter,  he  continued  his  calls 
and  evening  strolls  with  Adele.  I  do  not  know  how 
he  managed  to  keep  in  her  good  graces,  but  there  was 
much  dissembling  I  have  no  doubt. 

The  attributes  of  a  cat  are  always  applied  to  woman, 
and  I  do  not  think  it  fair.  There  are  masculine  as  well 
as  feminine  cats ;  and  the  manner  in  which  this 
smooth,  sleek  gentleman  toyed  with  his  victim,  only 
exhibiting  the  claws  concealed  beneath  the  velvet-like 

14 


1 5 a,  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

paws  when  the  poor  thing  made  an  attempt  to  escape, 
was  exceedingly  feline. 

And  did  the  willful,  high-spirited  Adele  submit  to 
this  tyranny?  The  willful,  high-spirited  Adele  could 
not  help  herself.  Alone,  she  stamped  her  feet  and  set 
her  teeth  in  impotent  rage.  "Fool!  idiot!"  she  ex 
claimed,  apostrophizing  her  own  miserable  self.  "  He 
plays  with  your  heart  as  a  sultan  plays  with  the  slaves 
of  his  harem  !  He  tortures  you  with  alternate  tender 
ness  and  neglect,  simply  for  his  own  amusement.  I 
will  not  submit  to  it !  False,  perfidious,  base,- — how 
can  I  love  him?  and  yet  I  do,  I  do  !" 

If  Adele's  pride  was  not  strong  enough  to  conquer 
her  love,  at  least  it  was  strong  enough  to  keep  it  con 
cealed.  And  in  very  desperation  she  flirted  with  every 
tender  young  exquisite  who  came  in  her  way ;  never 
reflecting  that  they,  too,  had  hearts  which,  however 
small,  were  capable  of  suffering,  and  that  with  smaller 
powers  of  endurance. 

About  this  time  a  very  romantic  stranger  made  his 

debut  upon  the  upper-crust  of  L society.  He  came 

from  the  South,  it  was  said,  and  his  aristocratic  appear 
ance,  and  the  air  of  mystery  which  hung  around  the 
son  of  a  despoiled  planter,  made  a  heavy  impression 
upon  all  the  disengaged  feminine  hearts  of  that  city. 
This  desperate  state  of  affairs  was  not  of  long  duration, 
however.  As  soon  as  they  discovered  him  as  indifferent 
to  their  charms  in  reality,  as  he  appeared,  they  speedily 
lost  all  interest  in  him,  and  Mr.  Kingsley  had  the  good 
fortune  to  get  rid  of  his  popularity  almost  as  soon  as  it 
begun. 

Between  this  stranger  and  Adele  a  mutual  and  spon 
taneous  liking  had  sprung  up,  upon  their  very  first  meet 
ing.  He  Deemed  deeply  impressed,  and  Adele,  if  appear 
ances  went  for  anything,  was  never  so  well  satisfied  as 
when  in  his  society.  Sid  watched  their  growing  inti 
macy  covertly  and  with  concealed  uneasiness.  At 
length  he  began  to  show  a  disposition  to  return  to  his 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  159 

old  allegiance,  which  Adele  completely  ignored.  She 
was  always  "  engaged"  when  he  called,  and  whenever 
they  chanced  to  meet  received  his  conciliatory  advances 
with  an  ironical  readiness  that  suppressed  sentiment  on 
the  instant. 

"Sid's  reign  is  absolutely  over,"  said  every  one. 

"This  is  the  constancy  of  woman  !"  sneered  Sid, 
sotto  voce. 

One  evening,  at  an  entertainment  given  by  one  of 

the  clubs  which  are  so  numerous  in  L ,  she  came  and 

sat  down  near  Sid,  who  was  standing  rather  moodily 
against  the  wall,  dismissing  her  attendant  under  the 
plea  of  being  "tired."  It  maybe  that  the  intensity 
of  Sid's  disapproving  gaze  attracted  her  attention,  or 
it  may  be  that  she  knew  by  instinct  that  he  was  observ 
ing  her ;  at  any  rate,  she  turned  unexpectedly  and, 
catching  his  eye,  nodded  familiarly,  and  with  a  smile 
that  said  plainly,  "You  may  come  if  you  wish." 

Sid  hesitated  only  a  moment,  then  he  went  and  sat 
down  by  her,  preserving  his  dignified,  disapproving 
air.  He  left  the  opening  of  the  conversation  to  her, 
which  she  made  in  a  piquant,  animated,  genial  man 
ner  that  was  hard  to  resist.  Gradually  Sid's  frown 
and  injured  air  vanished.  And  when  she  looked  into 
his  clouded  face,  smiling  as  only  Adele  could  smile,  he 
was  bewildered.  That  bewitching  smile  intoxicated 
him  like  wine.  They  talked  animatedly  for  .an  hour, 
then  they  waltzed  and  schottisched  for  another  hour. 

The  old  power  was  reinstated.  Sid,  reckless  of  the 
consequences,  if  he  might  only  bring  Adele  back  to 
the  old  allegiance,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
carried  away  by  the  passion  of  the  moment,  let  the 
world  see  that  this  was  the  woman  whom  he  adored. 
Mr.  Kingsley. looked  on  with  a  cynical  smile.  For  all 
he  looked  so  undiscomfited,  he  was  jealous,  no  doubt, 
for  he  stood  alone,  closely  observing  them,  and  talked 
to  no  one. 
Adele's  manner  was  the  same  as  usual;  the  same 


160  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

ease  and  absence  of  anything  like  triumph  or  display 
characterized  her  actions.  And  yet  Sid  saw  a  differ 
ence  that  was  not  apparent  to  other  eyes.  "She  loves 
me!"  "she  loves  me!"  was  the  refrain  of  all  his 
thoughts.  If  revenge  had  been  her  object,  she  had 
obtained  her  desire,  for  the  pretty  little  coal-merchant's 
daughter  looked  on  with  an  expression  of  wretchedness 
which  she  had  not  the  power  to  conceal.  She  had 
boasted  and  triumphed  over  Adele  in  the  victory  she 
supposed  herself  to  have  obtained  over  her  rival,  but 
which  her  rival's  more  lady-like  manner  had  never  ac 
cepted.  It  is  probable  that  Adele's  manoeuvre  to-night 
meant  revenge,  yet  she  did  not  dislike  the  silly  little 
creature :  she  pitied  her  too  much  for  that ;  and  when 
she  saw  her  wandering  restlessly  about,  with  a  feverish 
anxiety  in  her  pretty  blue  eyes,  which  not  even  the 
flattery  of  other  admirers  could  allay,  she  regretted 
that  she  had  made  the  poor  little  one  wretched  ;  and 
so,  with  another  manoeuvre,  unperceived  by  Sid,  she 
recalled  Kingsley  to  her  side,  and  he  was  left  to  dispose 
of  himself  according  to  his  pleasure. 

As  Adele,  hooded  and  cloaked,  passed  down  the 
hall  with  Kingsley,  Sid  passed  them  with  \i\sfiancee  on 
his  arm.  They  were  talking  in  low  tones,  but  the  petu 
lant  exclamation,  "I  won't  have  it!"  which  was  dis 
tinctly  audible,  sounded  the  key-note  to  their  chat. 

"A  lovers'  quarrel,  it  seems,"  remarked  Kingsley, 
with  a  laugh. 

Adele  gave  no  evidence  of  having  heard  the  remark. 
Already  the  reaction,  which  is  almost  sure  to  follow 
upon  undue  excitement  in  such  temperaments  as  hers, 
had  begun.  Suddenly  she  roused  herself  however, 
and  turning  upon  her  companion  a  careless  glance,  in 
quired,  "Hadn't  you  and  Ophelia  met  previous  to 
your  coming  here? — I  mean,  before  this  winter?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Kingsley,  returning  her 
careless  glance;  "we  spent  two  or  three  weeks  together 
at  Crab  Orchard  last  summer." 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  j6i 

"I  just  happened,  at  the  moment,  to  think  of  it;  I 
don't  know  why;  I  had  a  vague  fancy  that  you  had 
met  before.  Ophelia  has  seen  so  much,  and  met  so 
many  people,  she  never  thinks  of  telling  me  about  her 
acquaintances,  unless  I  ask  her." 

"  Your  friend  is  a  very  interesting  young  lady,"  said 
Kingsley. 

"My  friend  does  not  reveal  how  interesting  she  is,  in 
so  short  a  time  as  two  or  three  weeks." 

"Nevertheless,  I  have  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  sort  of 
young  lady  she  is,"  returned  Kingsley,  with  a  slight 
smile." 

"Well,  let  us  hear  how  good  a  reader  of  human 
nature  you  are?"  said  Adele,  incredulously. 

"The  superficial  idea  of  your  friend  is,  that  she  is 
of  a  calm,  serene  temperament;  my  version  of  her  is, 
that  she  is  restless,  full  of  moods  and  tenses;  wayward, 
fitful,  and  uncertain." 

He  looked  into  Adele's  eyes  for  confirmation,  and 
finding  it  there,  continued:  "Instead  of  being  the 
well-regulated,  conventional  young  lady  that  she  ap 
pears  in  society,  Miss  Berges  is,  at  heart,  a  true  savage, 
and  rates  her  own  individual  freedom  above  everything 
else.  She  has  a  natural  aversion  to  fetters,  and  for  all 
the  deceptive  face  seems  to  aver  '  there  is  no  joy  but 
calm,'  the  quiet  of  an  uneventful,  domestic  life  would 
be  about  as  congenial  to  her  as  a  tomb." 

"  I  must  say  that  you  judge  her  better  than  I  had 
thought ;  more  correctly  than  she  is  commonly  judged," 
said  Adele,  with  some  surprise. 

"Ah  !"  iterated  Kingsley  in  a  peculiar  tone. 

Adele  looked  at  him  earnestly  a  moment,  then 
started  suddenly,  a  new  expression  of  interest  coming 
into  her  face:  "  I  wonder "  and  then  she  stopped. 

"What  do  you  wonder?"  he  said,  looking  at  her 
curiously. 

"If  the  carriage  is  waiting,"  was  the  uninteresting 
conclusion. 

14* 


1 62  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

The  carriage  was  waiting,  with  Ophelia  in  it,  and 
Mr.  North  standing  by  it,  holding  the  door  open  for 
Adele.  Mr.  Kingsley  assisted  her  in,  North  closed  the 
door,  and  the  carriage  drove  off. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  and  Kingsley  were  ac 
quainted  before,  Ophelia,  until  he  told  me  to-night," 
said  Adele,  when  they  were  in  their  own  room. 

"Well?"  said  Ophelia,  inquiringly. 

"  He  only  told  me  that  you  had  met  at  Crab  Orchard. 
I  wonder  you  are  not  better  friends.  You  never  told 
me  anything  about  it." 

"  I  will  tell  you  some  other  time,"  returned  Ophelia, 
rather  hastily.  "It  is  late.  The  fact  is,  there  is  not 
much  to  tell."  And  she  immediately  diverted  Adele's 
attention  to  another  subject. 

Upon  the  following  morning,  as  Ophelia  made  prep 
arations  for  attending  a  mission  society  of  which  she 
was  corresponding  secretary,  or  something  of  the  sort, 
Adele  occupied  herself  with  watching  the  stream  of 
physiognomies  which  drifted  past.  She  looked  languid 
and  dejected.  "Ye  heavenly  powers!  for  what  was 
this  world  created?"  she  at  length  exclaimed,  turning 
away  from  the  window  with  a  countenance  full  of  dis 
gust.  "Selfishness,  greed,  vanity,  vulgarity,  or  gross 
stupidity  !  Why  do  these  creatures  live  and  flourish  in 
thy  sight?" 

"  The  wise  Creator  has  not  seen  fit  to  cast  all  in  the 
same  noble  mould,  Adele ;  but  they  are  all  his  crea 
tures,  nevertheless.  Some  vessels  are  created  to  honor, 
some  to  dishonor,  you  know.  That  he  has  seen  fit  to 
create  us  of  finer  clay  is  no  merit  of  ours.  We  are  all  of 
like  value  to  him,  as  the  product  of  his  almighty  hand." 

Adele  accepted  the  reproof  in  silence. 

"You  look  lonely,  Adele,"  said  Ophelia,  when  she 
was  at  length  ready  to  go.  "  Should  you  like  me  to 
stay?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Ophelia;  go  !     I  prefer  you  should  go." 

"  But  you  look  unhappy,  and  it  is  not  necessary  that 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  ^3 

I  should  go.  I  shall  not,  unless  you  would  rather  be 
without  me." 

"  Well,  Ophelia,  I  believe  I  had.  I  am  so  wretched 
and  miserable  this  morning,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  im 
part  any  of  my  discontent  to  you.  I  would  rather 
you  would  go,  indeed,  Ophelia.  What! — tears? 
Would  rather  stay  and  be  unhappy  with  your  friend, 
than  sew  for  the  heathen?  Then  stay  and  help  me, 
if  you  can,  Ophelia,  for  I  believe  my  burden  is  greater 
than  I  can  bear." 

The  haughty  head  was  drooped,  the  proud  spirit  was 
crushed, — she  looked  utterly  conquered.  Ophelia  took 
off  her  wrappings,  and  sat  down  by  her  friend  in  silence. 
Caresses  and  condolences  she  felt  would  come  amiss 
here ;  and  so  she  waited  for  the  cloud  to  pass  off  in 
silence.  Presently  Adele  lifted  her  head  proudly,  and 
taking  off  the  costly  antique  ring  which  she  had  worn 
up  to  this  time,  dashed  it  across  the  room. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  "I  like  that.  It  is 
the  wisest  thing  you  have  done  for  some  time.  I 
advise  you,  keep  to  that  spirit." 

A  frown  gathered  on  the  handsome  face.  "I  wish 
he  would  die!"  she  exclaimed,  vehemently,  "then  I 
could  have  some  peace." 

"Adele,  that  is  wicked." 

"  I  do  not  care  !  Oh,  how  I  hate  and  despise  my 
self  for  being  his  dupe !  Do  you  know,  Ophelia,  that 
whenever  he  tells  me  he  loves  me,  I  believe  him  ? — 
against  my  will,  against  my  judgment.  I  do  not  know 
in  the  least  why  I  love  him  so ;  I  cannot  understand  it 
at  all.  I  have  no  knowledge  of  how  it  was  brought 
about,  or  of  how  it  might  all  be  undone.  I  knoiv  him 
to  be  false.  I  believe  the  time  will  come  when  I  will 
thank  my  stars  that  it  is  Viola  Ball  instead  of  me  he 
marries;  and  yet  that  does  not  make  it  easier  for  me," 

"  Adele  !     I  thought  you  were  strong  !" 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  was  mistaken  :  I  am  weak.  But  I  will 
conquer.  I  must,  or  my  life  is  not  worth  a  dead  leaf  j" 


X64  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

She  arose  and  walked  restlessly  about  the  room,  the 
picture  of  wild  despair.  Unconsciously  Ophelia,  as 
she  watched  her  friend,  was  lifting  her  thoughts  to 
Heaven  in  earnest  prayer.  "Keep  me,  oh,  Almighty 
Preserver,  close  to  thy  heart, — thy  great  life-giving 
heart, — that  I  may  find  thy  love  all-sufficing,  and  never, 
never  go  wandering  after  idols  of  this  earth." 

She  saw  the  fruits  of  intemperate  earthly  love  in  the 
miserable  creature  before  her,  who,  whichever  way  she 
turned,  could  find  no  attitude  of  mind  that  did  not 
bring  her  pain.  Her  life  seemed  suddenly  stripped  of 
every  hope, — nothing  left  her  but  the  power  of  suffer 
ing.  Is  it  not  mysterious,  this  soul  of  ours  ?  It  is 
nothing  that  we  can  see,  or  recognize  by  any  material 
power  of  perception.  Intangible  as  air,  imperceptible 
to  every  sense,  there  is  no  material  method  by  which 
we  can  conceive  of  its  existence  ;  and  yet  the  torture 
it  is  capable  of  enduring  !  The  sufferings  of  the  body 
are  not  to  be  compared  with  it !  When  the  soul  is 
wounded,  then  there  is  anguish,  such  as  flesh  and  blood 
cannot  conceive. 

"I  was  not  created  for  a  domestic  life,"  she  said, 
at  length,  sitting  down  again  by  the  window.  There 
was  no  alternative  but  to  accept  the  situation  and  make 
the  best  of  it ;  and  like  a  wise  girl  she  began  to  make 
it  as  endurable  as  possible.  "  My  nature  is  too  intense 
for  the  dull  routine  of  household  duties.  I  think  it 
likely  I  would  soon  weary  of  it,  and  wish  myself  free 
again." 

"Oh,  you  do  not  know,  Adele,"  said  her  friend; 
"  so  persuasive  is  home  love, — so  comforting,  so  rest 
ful.  When  this  stormy  mood  is  past,  you  will  turn  all 
the  more  eagerly  to  a  quiet  fireside  and  a  settled  life. 
I  will  see  you  a  happy  householder  yet." 

As  she  spoke  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  the 
maid  handed  in  the  morning's  mail.  There  was  noth 
ing  but  Sid's  wedding-cards. 

"  Thursday  !"  exclaimed  Ophelia.  "  It  is  sooner  than 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  ^5 

I  expected.  At  the  church.  What  shall  you  wear, 
Adele?" 

"I  shall  not  go,"  said  Adele.  She  leaned  her  head 
against  the  window,  and  looked  quietly  out  upon  the 
street.  But  there  were  heavy  shadows  about  the  splen 
did  eyes,  and  painful  lines  about  the  perfect  mouth. 

"  You  must,  Adele  !     What  would  people  think?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  care  for  what  people  think?  I 
could  not  endure  it.  I  should  faint,  perhaps,  and 
make  a  scene.  You  cannot  conceive,  Ophelia,  the  des 
perate  state  of  my  mind." 

"Tell  me,  then,"  said  Ophelia,  compassionately; 
"  it  would  relieve  you,  I  know,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to 
share  your  thoughts,  however  desperate  they  may  be." 

"No,  it  would  be  no  relief.  Let  the  fires  die  in 
silence :  that  is  best.  If  I  only  had  some  chance  of 
working  off  this  mood  !  If  I  might  only  be  an  actress  !" 

"You  wild,  reckless  creature!  That  is  not  to  be 
thought  of." 

"It  is  my  only  talent.  And  I  have  been  told  that 
I  have  peculiarities  in  appearance,  voice,  and  action,  of 
Mrs.  Siddons  and  of  Charlotte  Cushman.  I  should  enjoy 
Lady  Macbeth's  career.  I  feel  her  thirst  for  power, 
her- " 

"Hush,  Adele!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  shuddering. 
"I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  talk  so.  Why  not  write? 
You  have  a  brilliant  and  a  ready  pen." 

"  I  could  not.  My  mind  is  in  no  condition  to  write 
articles.  I  could  not  abstract  my  thoughts  from  my  own 
troubles.  Once,  when  life  seemed  a  vista  of  pleasures, 
with  a  few  fancy  shadows  cast  in  by  way  of  variety, 
my  mind  was  full  of  happy  thoughts.  A  certain  seren 
ity  of  mind  is  necessary  to  success  in  any  branch  of 
art.  I  could  never  make  capital  of  my  own  experiences, 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  public." 

"That  would  be  both  unnecessary  and  uncalled  for. 
A  strong  sympathetic  power  is  one  of  the  essentials  of 
genius — genial,  you  know, — loving.  An  author  por- 


!66  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

trays  more  correctly  those  emotions,  thoughts  and  pas 
sions  of  which  he  is  the  mere  spectator :  understood 
through  sympathy,  he  has  a  more  collected  view,  and 
is  wholly  unprejudiced." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  spend  my  life  for  the  good  of  an 
ungrateful  public.  Fame  comes  only  after  one  is  dead, 
and  what  do  I  care  what  people  say  of  me  after  I  am 
dead  ?  Sometimes,  indeed,  an  author — if  he  chooses 
to  live  half  a  century — receives  a  small  allowance  of 
praise,  which  is  so  mixefl  up  with  spite  and  envy  that 
it  is  of  little  comfort  to  him.  If  I  ever  submit  myself 
to  the  criticism  of  that  conglomeration  of  insects  and 
reptiles  called  '  the  public,' — who  vote  you  a  fool  if 
they  haven't  the  brains  to  understand  you, — it  will  be 
in  some  capacity  wherein  I  may  gain  immediate  and 
sure  profit.  I  would  rather  rely  upon  my  heels,  my 
voice,  or  this  superb  face  of  mine, — about  which  some 
fools  rave, — for  fame,  than  upon  my  brains.  Mere  in 
tellect  is  a  possession  of  very  low  value  in  the  estima 
tion  of  most  people." 

"If  that  is  your  feeling  toward  the  public,  I  own  you 
would  not  be  likely  to  accomplish  much  good.  You 
take  a  handful  of  critics, — some  honest  and  impartial, 
others  eager  only  for  their  own  aggrandizement,  which 
is  accomplished  so  much  more  easily  by  destroying  other 
people's  work  than  by  creations  of  their  own, — and 
call  that  the  public  !  when  there  are  thousands  who 
read  your  book  and  like  it,  of  whom  you  never  hear." 

"  If  you  never  hear  of  them,  what  good  does  it  do?" 
said  Adele. 

"Oh,  if  you  count  only  the  good  that  accrues  to 
yourself,  that  is  another  matter;"  and  Ophelia  turned 
away  disappointed. 

"I  have  told  you,  Ophelia,  I  have  not  the  power  of 
looking  outward  from -myself  as  you  have;  of  identi 
fying  myself  with  the  world  and  working  for  it  and  be 
ing  satisfied  if  //  is  benefited,  regardless  of  my  own 
comfort." 


THAT  MISS  HUGHES  AGAIN.  167 

"Conquer  yourself — rise  above  yourself — and  you 
can." 

Adele  made  no  reply,  but  looked  gloomily  out  upon 
the  street.  She  was  in  no  mood  to  be  philanthropic. 
Storm-tossed,  this  wayward  spirit  had  no  compass,  no 
anchor — no  help  or  guide.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
tenderness  and  compassion  of  the  Divine  One ;  how, 
when  all  earthly  friends  fail,  He — the  King  of  Kings — 
is  not  disdainful  of  the  slighted,  wounded  heart,  but 
heals  and  comforts  it,  and  makes  it  stronger  than  be 
fore. 

I  have  no  craving  for  political  power,  John,  but  I 
would  fain  whisper  a  word  in  the  ear  of  Congress,  in 
behalf  of  the  struggling  literati  of  our  land.  Oh,  that 
I  could  see  this  sordid,  practical,  calculating  age  pass 
away,  to  be  succeeded  by  a  golden  one  of  letters,  when 
brains  shall  take  the  precedence  of  money — when  the 
poets  and  philosophers  shall  be  the  aristocrats  of  the 
land,  instead  of  the  wealthy  railroad  speculators  and 
oil-merchants  !  I  would  have  the  savants  (and  savan- 
esses)  flourishing  gorgeous  badges,  and  sonorous  titles 
in  the  dead — stone-dead — languages,  while  the  rest  of 
the  world  stood  agape  with  awe  at  their  magnificence. 
They  should  dwell  in  glorious  alhambras  instead  of 
garrets,  and  feast  upon  ambrosia  instead  of  crusts. 

But  alas!  as  I  glance  around  and  perceive  no  "hall 
of  legislation," — nor  one  single  M.  C.  to  whose  listen 
ing  ear  I  might  unfold  my  plans — I  am  forced  to  relin 
quish  my  dream  of  a  "Golden  Age." 


1 68  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

"LASHINGS," — BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE." 

H"ERVE  had  completed  his  last  course  of  lectures ; 
had  studied  hard  and  matriculated  with  honor.  He 
had  not  visited  his  sister  and  her  friend  often, — being 
too  much  engrossed  in  his  studies, — and  never  attended 
parties.  Ophelia  liked  for  Herve  to  come.  She  per 
ceived  in  him  a  rare  sincerity  and  earnestness,  and  she 
wanted  to  search  thoroughly  and  to  the  uttermost  this 
admirable  character.  She  felt  that  contact  with  so  de 
cidedly  honest  and  truthful  a  nature  was  of  benefit  to 
her.  She  would  spare  him  the  annoyance  of  useless 
gallantries,  but  she  was  resolved  upon  having  him  for  a 
friend, — a  fast,  true  friend.  Therefore  she  was  no  less 
gratified  than  Adele  when  he  informed  them  that  an  old 
and  prominent  physician  had  taken  him  into  his  office 
and  practice  as  prospective  partner. 

As  they  all  talked  the  matter  over  one  evening  in 
the  parlor,  Mr.  Waltman  made  his  appearance,  unan 
nounced.  Ophelia  went  forward  rather  hastily  to  meet 
him  and  conducted  him  to  a  divan  at  some  distance 
from  the  brother  and  sister.  Both  bowed  distantly, 
and  continued  their  conversation  as  if  uninterrupted. 

"Your  friend  is  to  be  married  to  Mr.  North  soon, 
I  believe,"  remarked  Herve. 

"Yes,  that  is  the  present  calculation,"  returned 
Adele. 

"She  is  not  very  anxious  for  the  marriage?" 

"No,"  said  Adele  discontentedly,  "I  believe  she 
despises  him." 

"Is  it  for  his  wealth?" 

"Wealth!  no,  she  cares  nothing  for  wealth.  It  is 
simply  because  her  parents  wish  it." 


"LASHINGS,"   BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE."      169 

"Why  don't  you  use  your  influence  with  her  against 
it?"  said  Herve,  earnestly.  "She  should  not  be  al 
lowed  to  sacrifice  herself  in  that  way." 

"I  have  used  my  influence,  and  it  is  of  no  use.  She 
is  as  stubborn  as  a  rock." 

"She  is  too  good  for  him, — a  thousand  times! — I 
am  sure.  I  know  something  of  his  private  life,  and  'it  is 
not  altogether  above  reproach." 

Sid  had  prevailed  upon  Ophelia  to  play  for  him,  and 
stood  leaning  upon  the  piano,  watching  her  fingers. 
When  the"  brother  and  sister  approached,  he  turned  and 
spoke  to  Adele.  "  I  have  something  of  yours  that  I 
wanf  to  give  you  this  evening,"  he  said. 

"And  receive  something  of  yours  in  return?"  she 
replied,  with  a  satirical  arch  of  her  peculiar  eyebrows, 

"No,  no,"  returned  Sid.  "  I  hope  you  will  return 
nothing — come  to  the  window, — and  there  is  one  little 
keepsake  that  I  would  like  to  retain."  They  walked 
to  the  bay-window  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  talk 
ing  lightly  and  smiling  serenely.  The  handsome  lace 
curtains  screened  them  partially  from  the  other  occu 
pants  of  the  room  as  they  sat  down  together  within  the 
recess. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  handing  her  a  little  note,  the  only 
love-note  she  had  ever  written  him.  "I  wanted  to 
keep  it,  but  I  thought  you  would  feel  more  comfortable 
to  have  it  back." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Adele,  taking  the  antique  ring 
from  her  pocket  and  handing  him.  He  would  not  re 
ceive  it,  so  she  quietly  laid  it  on  the  sill,  where  it  was 
afterward  found  by  the  maid  and  quietly  appropriated 
to  her  own  use. 

He  had  a  long  defense  made  up  for  the  occasion, 
but,  looking  into  those  clear  eyes,  he  found  it  impossi 
ble  to  repeat  it.  However  strong  the  will  of  man,  it 
can  be  conquered  by  the  influence  of  woman.  History 
has  a  thousand  times  repeated  this  aphorism,  and  Sid, 
in  her  presence,  felt  himself  over-mastered. 

H  15 


170 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


"My  soul !  my  life  !"  he  exclaimed  softly, — more  as 
if  he  were  speaking  to  himself, — looking  down  into  her 
face  with  such  a  splendor  of  passion  in  his  handsome 
eyes  that  Adele  was  fairly  dazzled. 

She  turned  away  hastily,  but  he  held  her  fast.  "  I 
have  been  possessed  by  a  demon,  who  spoiled  my  nights 
and  my  days  of  rest,  and  blinded  me  to  every  thought 
but  one, — that  one,  to  make  myself  famous.  I  was  a 
fool !  What  is  fame,  when  we  grasp  it,  but  air  !  It  is 
love  only  that  blesses."  And  then  he  poured  forth  such 
a  wild  torrent  of  tender  words  and  mad  entreaties, — 
"  he  would  defy  the  world  and  give  up  everything  if  she 
would  go  with  him  ! — they  would  be  married  immedi 
ately,  and  go  away,  he  cared  not  where  ! — he  could 
make  his  way  in  the  world  any  place  if  she  were  with 
him," — that  Adele,  struck  dumb  by  this  sudden  blaze 
of  passion,  gazed  at  him  in  a  sort  of  trance  of  uncon- 
trolable  tenderness  and  wonder.  At  last  she  was 
beloved  with  that  fiery,  insane  sort  of  passion  which 
alone  could  satisfy  the  demands  of  her  exacting  nature. 
No  wonder  that  sh'e  drooped  and  trembled  as  a  slender 
reed  before  the  blast. 

She  did  not  forget  that  there  were  others  in  the 
room ;  a  woman  never  forgets  that,  unless  she  be  mad 
indeed.  "You  talk  nonsense!"  she  said,  a  little  scorn 
fully.  "Your  rather  singular  proposal  comes  a  little 
late." 

"  I  see  !  You  do  not  believe  me ;  you  have  no  faith 
in  me.  Well,  I  deserve  that.  Look  at  me,  Adele, 
just  one  moment,  and  you  will  know  that  I  speak  from 
the  heart." 

She  shrank  away  from  him.  "  Bah  !"  she  exclaimed, 
scornfully;  "there  is  no  truth  in  you!  Once  I  was 
such  an  idiot  as  to  bestow  myself  at  your  asking.  You 
slighted  the  gift  and  scorned  it.  Now,  Sid  Waltman, 
I  hate  and  despise  you." 

She  turned  away  and  walked  deliberately  to  the  piano, 
where  Ophelia  and  Herve  were  occupied  in  trying  some 


•^LASHINGS,"  BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE."      I7I 

new  ballads  together.  Sid,  quivering  from  the  shock 
of  his  sudden  downfall,  for  a  moment  stood  gazing 
stupidly  into  the  street.  He  felt  the  jar  all  over  him. 
By  a  strong  effort  of  will  he  mastered  himself,  and  was 
quietly  making  his  way  towards  the  door  when  Mr. 
Hughes  called  out : 

"Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Waltman  ;  I'll  go  with  you." 

Adele  sat  down  by  the  window  and  watched  the  two 
go  up  the  street  together.  "Go  to  bed,  Ophelia;  I'll 
be  up  presently." 

"I'll  stay  until  you  are  ready,  then,"  returned 
Ophelia. 

"Oh,  no  ! — there's  no  use  !  I  only  want  to  see  my 
star  go  down." 

"Well,  come  up  soon,  or  I'll  be  asleep." 

"Yes,"  returned  Adele;  and  her  friend  went  away 
yawning. 

She  stretched  her  head  out  at  the  window  to  look  for 
the  two  figures,  but  they  were  out  of  sight.  There  was 
hatred  between  them,  she  knew.  In  a  few  moments 
more  she  stood  at  the  gate  looking  up  and  down  the 
street.  It  was  deserted.  A  respectable  street  it  was, 
and  had  no  need  of  police,  only  to  keep  burglars  away. 

Far,  far  up  the  street  she  discerned  two  dim  figures 
which  were  so  far  away,  she  knew.  Throwing  a  veil 
over  her  head,  she  followed  quickly.  Near  enough  to 
discern  their  gestures  and  hear  their  voices,  she  paused 
in  the  shadow  of  a  broad-spreading  tree  to  listen. 

"You  have  acted  the  part  of  a  scoundrel  and  a  vil 
lain  !  You  have  shown  yourself  too  mean  and  con 
temptible  for  the  touch  of  honest  hands,  but  I  intend 
to  honor  you  above  your  deserts  and  give  you  a  genteel 
thrashing." 

Waltman  looked  at  the  speaker  with  ineffable  scorn. 
"The  fool !"  he  exclaimed,  as  if  addressing  some  other 
person,  "as  if  I  would  consent  to  fight  like  a  rowdy  in 
the  open  street !" 

"I  know  of  no  more  suitable  place,"  said  Herve, 


172 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


taking  him  by  the  collar.  "  I  have  a  mind  to  shake 
the  very  soul  out  of  you  ! — the  villainous,  contemptible 
soul,"  he  said,  shaking  him. 

Sid's  swarthy  countenance  became  livid.  "  Sir,"  he 
said,  with  outward  composure,  "  I  have  nothing  against 
you.  I  consider  you  as  generally  a  well-meaning  fellow, 
and  should  really  dislike  to  do  you  any  serious  damage, 
but  if  you  do  not  release  me,  I  shall  be  compelled  to 

— box  your  jaws.  You  will  not?  Then . "  A 

heavy  blow  followed,  which,  taking  his  stout  antago 
nist  on  surprise,  came  near  bringing  him  to  the  ground. 

But  the  sturdy  Hercules  soon  recovered  his  balance, 
and  the  next  instant  the  two  closed  upon  each  other. 
A  tough  struggle  followed.  It  had  lasted  but  a  few 
minutes,  when  both  tottered  a  moment, — then  fell ;  but 
Sid  was  beneath,  and  Herve's  hand  was  on  his  throat. 
His  face  grew  black, — his  veins  knotted  up  like  cords, 
— his  hold  slackened, — his  arms  fell  apart. 

Adele  hesitated  no  longer.  "Herve,  you  fool ! — do 
you  want  to  be  hung  ?  Let  him  go,  I  tell  you  !  He's 
dead  noitj  ! ' ' 

She  forced  these  words  through  her  set  teeth, — close- 
locked,  to  keep  back  the  hysterical  shrieks  she  felt 
rising  to  her  lips. 

Herve's  hold  loosened,  but  ,the  breath  was  out  of 
him.  For  a  minute  he  was  still, — still  as  a  rock.  Then 
he  drew  a  long  breath,  the  deadly  hue.  passed  off  from 
his  countenance,  and  he  sat  up. 

He  looked  up  at  the  two  standing  over  him,  drew 
his  hand  over  his  face,  and  said,  "  I  will  get  over  this 
presently." 

Then  his  eye  rested  on  Herve, — a  deadly  glare  ! — and 
he  arose  to  his  feet.  But  Herve's  sister  was  before  him, 
her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  a  look  of  entreaty  mingled 
with  command  in  her  eye. 

"  Mr.  Waltman,"  she  said,  in  low,  steady  tones,  "my 
brother  has  been  very  rash,  but  you  ought  to  be  able  to 
forgive  him.  You  might, — remembering  all  that  has 


"LASHINGS,"  BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE."      173 

transpired  this  night.  Let  this  be  the  last  of  it, — the 
very  last!  Will  you  let  me  ask  this  in  vain?" 

He  looked  down  upon  her,  and  slowly  a  change 
came  over  his  countenance.  "No,"  he  said  shortly, 
turning  away.  "Oh,  that  it  could  be  blotted  out, — or 
that  it  had  never  been  !" 

Footsteps  were  heard  approaching.  A  solitary  figure 
was  seen  advancing  toward  them.  It  was  a  policeman. 
He  strolled  slowly  by,  looking  keenly  at  the  party. 
Herve  took  his  sister's  arm  and  turned  toward  home. 

They  did  not  speak  until  they  had  reached  the  gate. 
There  they  paused.  "Foolish,  foolish  Herve!"  said 
Adele,  looking  kindly  at  him.  "  You  did  very  wrong. 
It  is  better  for  blundering  brothers  not  to  meddle  in 
such  matters.  To-morrow  evening  Mr.  Waltman  is  to 
be  married,  after  which  he  starts  on  a  long  tour. 
Everything  has  long  been  over  between  us.  He  only 
came  to-night  to  bid  me  good-bye." 

"Very  well,  I  have  prepared  him  for  his  bridal," 
said  Herve,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"I  must  go,"  said  Adele;  "  Ophelia  might  be  com 
ing  to  look  for  me." 

"  Does  she  know  anything  of  this  ?" 

"No." 

"  Then  tell  her  nothing.  I  am  sorry  that  you  should 
know.  Good-night." 

"Good-night." 

Upon  the  following  evening  a  large  and  fashionable 
audience  were  assembled  in  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
popular  churches  in  L ,  to  witness  the  marriage  cere 
mony  of  Sid  Waltman  and  Viola  Ball.  The  bridal 
party  came  in  to  the  sound  of  gay  music.  The  chan 
deliers  flared,  the  organ  groaned,  and  the  minister 
stood  in  his  robe  ready  to  perform  the  solemn  rite. 
The  bride,  in  her  white  satin  robe  and  orange  wreath, 
tripped  daintily  beside  her  grave  bridegroom,  entirely 
happy  in  the  consciousness  of  looking  beautiful. 

15* 


174 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


I  wonder  did  any  one  observe  that  dark,  purplish 
spot  upon  the  bridegroom's  throat? — the  print  of  a 
man's  hand.  Beneath  the  chill  reserve  of  his  set  coun 
tenance  there  was  a  subtle  expression,  like  fear,  as  if 
the  horror  of  the  step  he  was  now  taking  rose  up,  for 
the  first  time,  and  confronted  him.  They  went  through 
with  the  ceremony  composedly,  said  all  that  was  re 
quired  of  them  in  a  respectful  tone,  and  then  back  to 
the  vestibule,  where  they  were  complimented  and  con 
gratulated  by  a  few  friends;  then  into  the  carriage  and 
away. 

"  I  wonder  why  Miss  Berges  and  Miss  Hughes  were 
not  here?"  said  some  one  to  Mr.  Beckworth,  as  they 
stood  at  the  church  gate,  looking  after  the  bridal  party. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  returned  shortly,  and  was 
turning  away. 

"There  they  are  now!  Let's  call  them  here  and 
inquire,"  said  the  other. 

The  two  young  ladies  nodded  from  the  carriage 
window,  and  the  driver  pulled  up  in  front  of  the 
church. 

"Too  late!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Beckworth;  "  they  are 
married  and  gone." 

"  We  were  not  going  to  the  wedding,"  said  Ophelia; 
"we  are  on  our  way  to  the  opera  house  to  see  Janau- 
schek."  Mr.  North  was  with  them. 

"Can  I  go  along?"  inquired  Mr.  Beckworth. 

"  Certainly,"  said  all;  and  Mr.  Beckworth  got  in. 

"  Why  were  you  not  at  the  wedding,  Miss  Hughes?" 
inquired  the  other  gentleman. 

"Oh,  church  weddings  are  so  much  like  funerals," 
returned  Adele,  "they  always  give  me  the  horrors." 

"  How's  your  heart?"  called  out  another. 

"  Considerably  damaged,  I  own,  but  I  mean  to  try 
and  plaster  it  up  after  a  sort,"  said  Adele  quite  readily. 
And  they  drove  off. 

In  society,  Adele  was  more  recklessly  gay  than  ever; 
but  when  there  was  nothing  to  divert  and  absprb  her 


"LASHINGS,"  BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE."      175 

attention  she  was  forced  to  listen  to  the  restless  ever- 
surging  thoughts  within.  Her  heart  was  sorely  wounded. 
She  felt  bereaved.  Often,  in  the  midnight,  she  awoke 
with  the  feeling  that  some  heavy  calamity  had  befallen 
her. 

She  could  not  choose  but  love  him,  and  now  she 
wanted  to  steal  away  to  some  lonely  spot  and  die. 
There  was  no  solitude  in  the  city:  no  darkness,  no 
silence.  If  she  pined  for  a  moment's  seclusion  and 
obscurity,,  the  four  narrow  walls  of  a  room,  alone, 
could  give  it  her.  Wander  however  far  upon  the  rusty 
confines  of  the  city,  there  was  always  a  chance  of 
meeting  curious,  observant  eyes. 

"  I  must  go  home,"  she  said,  at  length;  and,  not 
withstanding  remonstrances  and  earnest  entreaties  from 
the  family,  she  packed  her  trunk  and  departed. 

Her  reception  at  home  was  not  invigorating.  Her 
father  and  the  boys  seemed  glad  to  see  her,  but  her 
mother,  though  curious  in  regard  to  her  city  life,  was 
reproachful  and  disapproving,  and  her  sisters  sternly 
oblivious  of  her  presence.  All  her  overtures  of  friend 
ship  toward  these  two  "superior  young  women"  were 
received  with  cold  indifference.  She  tried  to  con 
ciliate  their  good-will  by  every  means  in  her  power. 
She  even  humbled  her  pride,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life;  tried  to  adopt  their  habits  and  tastes,  and  pressed 
her  services  upon  them ; — and  at  last,  finding  herself 
only  tolerated,  was  obliged  to  fall  back  upon  her  own 
resources  for  comfort  and  sympathy. 

Here  she  had  solitude — illimitable  !  Her  hungry 
heart  must  feed  upon  itself,  or  starve.  She  grew  mo 
rose  and  morbid.  If  her  heart  had  been  strong  and 
full  of  joy  and  hope,  she  mtgAthave  accomplished  the 
herculean  task  of  assimilating  these  discordant  ele 
ments,  and  succeeded  in  establishing  an  electric,  in 
vigorating  current  of  sympathy  in  this  lifeless  family 
circle;  but  her  soul  was  sick,  and  sought  only  for 
the  means  wherewith  to  comfort  and  heal  itself. 


176  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"What  a  beastly  way  to  live!"  she  thought,  with 
disgust.  "We  go  about  with  our  minds  locked  up 
from  each  other,  as  if  we  were  dumb  animals." 

Her  father  was  rarely  in  the  house,  and  then  he  read 
his  papers  or  scolded  the  boys.  "  Children  are  a 
source  of  great  care  and  anxiety  to  their  parents,"  he 
said,  "and  rarely  any  comfort." 

Tom  had  married,  and  permanently  settled  in  St. 
Louis.  The  lady,  whom  he  described  as  "  wealthy, 
witty,  and  beautiful,"  was  the  daughter  of  his  em 
ployer  and  proprietor  of  the  gorgeous  saloon,  the  de 
scription  of  which  answered  well  to  the  picture  of  a 
faro  bank. 

When  the  first  note  of  the  robin  had  heralded  the 
spring,  Adele  spent  an  hour  each  day  at  twilight  walk 
ing  back  and  forth  in  the  old  orchard,  where  she 
battled  stoutly  with  her  mutinous  heart,  and  strove  to 
reconcile  herself  to  her  joyless  fate ;  though  at  times 
she  recoiled  from  the  dull,  blank  future  which  con 
fronted  her. 

All  around  her  the  bare  branches  of  jagged  trees  out 
lined  their  forms  upon  the  sky.  Here  she  seemed 
shut  in  from  all  the  world  by  a  continuous  wall  of 
interlacing  boughs. 

"  Oh  !  the  insatiable  past !"  she  exclaimed,  thinking 
of  "  the  days  that  are  no  more."  "It  swallows  up  all 
that  is  most  precious  in  this  life ;  and  the  mocking 
future ! — it  holds  forth  joys  which  vanish  as  we  clutch 
them.  Only  in  the  present  cao  we  rely,  or  find  sub 
stantial  comfort." 

The  sun  was  setting  in  great  pomp.  She  looked 
upon  the  wall  of  crimson  and  gold  in  the  west  with  a 
vague  feeling  of  hope  that  something  of  brightness  was 
yet  to  come  into  her  life.  As  she  looked,  a  dark  cloud 
skirting  the  horizon  slowly  rose,  like  a  screen  drawn 
up  from  some  unknown  depth,  and  closed  over  the 
tinseled  spot,  leaving  nothing  but  gloom. 

She  turned  her  back  upon  it,  and  walked  sullenly  the 


"LASHINGS,"  BUT  NOT  OF  "CONSCIENCE."      177 

other  way.  If  her  life  was  to  be  like  that,  she  did  not 
wish  to  know  it.  And  then,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  morbid 
despair  it  seemed  to  her  that  life,  from  the  beginning 
to  the  ending,  was  nothing  but  darkness,  and  she  cried 
out  that  the  gloomy  farce  might  be  speedily  ended. 

How  hard  are  these  fantastic  troubles  to  conquer! 

When  she  turned  again  and  directed  her  gaze  toward 
the  sky,  behold  a  wonderful  transformation  there ! 
The  black  clouds  had  divided,  and  stood  in  jagged 
peaks,  through  whose  crevices  shone  resplendent  the 
glory  of  a  gorgeous  sunset. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Adele,  joyfully,  "that  is  to  be 
the  grand  total :  a  period  of  sunshine,  a  period  of 
gloom,  and  then  a  sublime  mingling  of  joy  and  woe. 
That  is  the  sort  of  life  to  live  ! — no  dull,  gray  monot 
ony  for  me." 

Persons  of  vivid  nervous  temperament,  you  may  have 
observed,  John,  seldom  lead  monotonous  lives.  They 
create  the  varied  circumstances,  harmonious  or  dis 
cordant,  by  which  their  lives  are  moulded. 

Let  us  suppose  a  man  sunk  waist-deep  in  a  morass. 
If  he  remained  there,  merely  calling  upon  God  to  de 
liver  him,  without  making  any  other  effort  toward  his 
extrication,  at  what  time  do  you  suppose  his  deliverance 
would  be  accomplished?  At  about  the  day  of  judg 
ment,  I  am  thinking,  when  the  Shepherd  is  separating 
the  sheep  from  the  goats. 

The  world  is  wide,  John,  and  if  an  individual  chooses 
to  settle  into  one  little  corner  of  it  and  vegetate  there, 
it  is  his  own  fault.  The  contemplation  of  grand  things 
inspires  grand  thoughts.  The  life  that  is  doled  out  in 
one  narrow  spot,  amid  trivial  and  petty  circumstances, 
is  calculated  to  shape  a  mind  of  like  proportions. 

No  longer,  John,  do  we  contemplate  from  our  win 
dow  a  little  landscape  of  brick-work.  Our  view  ex 
pands  into  a  wide  and  picturesque  scene.  A  majestic 
river  winds  its  slow  and  stately  way  adown  a  vista  of 

TT'P 


178  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

rugged  hills.  Along  its  sandy  beach,  where  ceaselessly 
fluctuate  the  fretful  waves,  is  stationed,  here  and  there, 
a  coppice  of  willow  trees.  We  are  in  "the  country," 
John. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BROKEN   FETTERS. 

AT  last  Ophelia's  wedding-day  was  fixed.  She  re 
fused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  her  trousseau.  Mamma 
cared  for  such  things ;  she  might  attend  to  it.  It  was 
all  foolishness  any  way — she  had  plenty  of  clothes.  "  I 
would  as  soon  be  engaged  in  preparing  my  shroud," 
she  wrote  to  Adele,  who  replied,  "  You  disappoint  me, 
Ophelia.  You  are  not  as  good  as  I  thought  you  were, 
or  you  would  be  true  to  yourself.  Don't  you  know  it 
is  as  wicked  and  cruel  to  ruin  your  own  life  as -to  ruin 
the  life  of  any  other  person?" 

"Yes,  it  is  ruined!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  dropping 
the  letter,  and  covering  her  despairing  face  with  her 
hands:  "that  is  the  truth.  I  shall  be  the  bound  slave 
of  a  tyrant.  But,  just  Heaven  !  how  am  I  to  help  my 
self?" 

There  was  another  letter  to  read,  at  which  she  had, 
as  yet,  scarcely  glanced.  She  glanced  at  the  strange 
superscription  with  but  little  curiosity.  Then  she 
opened  it  and  read: — "If  you  are  not  simply  marrying 
a  fortune,  and  have  a  care  as  to  the  character  of  your 
husband,  I  advise  you  to  let  Mr.  North  go.  If  you  are 
an  honorable  and  virtuous  woman,  he  is  not  the  sort  of 
husband  you  want.  He  is  a  villain  and  a  scoundrel. 
There  is  not  a  meaner  man  on  top  of  this  earth.  If 
you  want  proof,  I  can  give  it,  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
North  himself." 

Signed :  Mrs.  Kate  Wharton,  United  States  Hotel. 


BROKEN  FETTERS. 


179 


Ophelia  carried  this  letter  to  her  parents.  She  could 
have  nothing  to  do  with  raking  among  rubbish  for  proof 
of  her  betrothed's  villainies.  Mr.  Berges  looked  aston 
ished,  Mrs.  Berges  incredulous. 

"  It  is  a  vile  scandal  raised  by  some  envious  woman 
who  wanted  him  herself,"  she  said.  "I  advise  you, 
take  no  notice  of  it." 

(The  readiness  with  which  women  suspect  each  other 
has  become  proverbial.) 

"But  she  gives  her  name  and  address,"  said  Mr. 
Berges,  ""and  that  looks  honest.  Ophelia  deserves  a 
good  husband,  and  North  shall  not  have  her  if  he  fails 
to  prove  himself  the  gentleman  he  pretends  to  be.  I 
have  never  thought  him  entirely  worthy  of  Ophelia, 
any  way." 

"As  to  that,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berges,  with  a  slight 
degree  of  irony  in  her  tone,  "no  one  is  worthy  of 
Ophelia." 

"At  any  rate,"  returned  her  husband,  "I  shall  call 
and  see  Mrs.  Wharton  before  the  day  is  out.  An  in 
vestigation  of  the  matter  can  do  no  harm." 

Mr.  Berges  returned  home  that  evening  looking  stern. 
"Well,  Ophelia,  it  is  all  up  with  your  wedding,  child." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,  papa,"  she  returned  calmly. 

"Mrs.  Wharton's  proof  was  conclusive  :  so  conclu 
sive  that  North  submitted  without  an  effort  to  defend 
himself,  under  the  condition  that  nothing  should  be 
said  about  it.  Do  you  wish  to  hear  the  particulars  ? 
They  are  not  very  inviting  to  a  refined  mind,  but  if 
you  desire  it  I  will  tell  you  all." 

"No,  I  do  not  care  to  hear,"  she  replied. 

A  month  or.  so  after,  Mr.  North  was  married  to  a 
proud,  ambitious  young  woman,  whom  he  had  pre 
viously  visited  and  it  was  reported  that  Ophelia  was 
"jilted."  But  Ophelia  could  bear  that.  She  could 
bear  anything,  she  was  so  glad  to  be  free;  and  the 
curious  looks  and  jests  were  not  near  so  hard  to  endure 
as  the  thoughts  of  linking  her  life  with  his. 


l8o  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

But  that  was  not  the  last  of  Mrs.  Wharton.  A  short 
time  after  Mr.  North's  marriage,  Ophelia  received  an 
other  letter  in  the  same  hand.  She  was  alone  and 
friendless,  it  said,  and  in  doubt  about  many  things. 
She  stood  in  great  need  of  a  friend  to  help  and  advise 
her ; — not  money — she  had  plenty  of  money.  She  had 
seen  Ophelia  and  believed  her  to  be  a  true  Christian, — 
one  who  would  not  refuse  help  to  the  distressed. 

Ophelia  was  a  dutiful  child,  and  she  took  this  letter 
to  her  father  to  ask  his  advice ;  but  it  was  when  her 
mother  was  absent,  she  knew  very  well  that  her  mother 
would  immediately  and  decidedly  negative  the  whole 
proceeding. 

"  Use  your  own  judgment,"  said  her  father.  "Mrs. 
Wharton  is  not  a  lady  of  refinement  or  culture.  She 
has  apparently  been  reared  in  a  low  circle,  and  her 
life,  I  imagine,  has  not  always  been  above  reproach ; 
and  yet  I  believe  the  woman  is  truly  repentant  now,  and 
anxious  to  mend  her  ways.  It  may  be  that  you  can  do 
her  some  good  without  injuring  yourself.  It  is  neces 
sary  that  young  women  should  be  very  circumspect  in 
regard  to  their  associates,  and  yef  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  being  too  rigorous.  Where  there  is  a  possibility  of 
accomplishing  any  good,  I  doubt  if  it  would  be  right 
to  disregard  such  a  message.  It  might  harden  a  heart 
naturally  suspicious  and  skeptical.  We  are  very  seldom 
too  compassionate." 

That  afternoon  found  Ophelia  taking  an  inventory 
of  Mrs.  Wharton's  chamber,  while  the  lady  completed 
her  evening  toilette  in  the  small  dressing-room  adjoin 
ing.  The  room,  lavishly  strewn  with  costly  and  use 
less  articles,  indexed  an  extravagant  and  unrefined  na 
ture  ;  but  even  this  did  not  prepare  Ophelia  for  the 
gorgeous,  over-dressed  Cleopatra  who  swept  forward  to 
meet  her.  She  looked  keenly  into  the  modest  face  of 
her  visitor,  and  then,  without  the  slightest  hesitation  or 
needless  preliminaries,  entered  upon  the  subject  of  her 
wishes. 


BROKEN  FETTERS.  181 

"I  have  everything  that  heart  could  wish,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  and  indescribable  brogue,  "and  yet  I  am 
not  happy.  Christian  people  are  happy.  I  want  to 
know  how  to  get  to  be  a  Christian.  I  am  living  a  good 
life.  I  help  whoever  needs  my  help,  I  do  nothing- 
wrong,  and  yet  that  does  not  seem  to  be  all.  I  want 
to  know  what  else  is  required.  I  have  never  been  in 
side  of  a  church  but  once,  and  then  I  saw  some  of  your 
saints  turning  up  their  noses  at  me.  I  have  not  always 
been  what  I  ought  to  have  been,  but  now  I  want  to 
join  the  church  and  be  a  Christian.  How  am  I  to  do 
this  with  your  fine-spun  saints  turning  up  their  noses 
and  raising  the  devil  in  me  ?  You  are  different.  You 
do  not  scorn  me?" 

"Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Wharton,  I  scorn  no  human  being, — 
I  have  no  right.  Only,  when  they  yield  themselves  to 
sin,  it  is  right  that  we  should  separate  ourselves  from 
them,  lest  we  seem  to  sanction  their  course,  and  lest 
we  too — we  are  all  weak  and  liable  to  error — fall  into 
their  evil  ways.  But  when  they  have  a  real  wish  to 
reform,  and  become  good  and  virtuous  people,  it  is 
only  right  that  we  should  help  them." 

Then  she  began  at  the  beginning,  and  related  all  of 
her  Christian  experience,  making  such  remarks  as  she 
thought  befitted  the  occasion.  But  the  blazing  black 
eye  never  softened,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest 
abatement  of  her  self-sufficient  air.  Ophelia  saw  that 
her  words  were  without  effect.  Her  mild  recital  made 
no  impression  whatever  upon  this  fiery,  hardened 
nature. 

A  pale,  majestic  face,  and  quiet,  earnest,  but  power 
ful  voice  rose  to  her  mind, — a  young  minister,  of  her 
own  persuasion,  but  not  of  her  own  church.  Though 
young,  he  had  taken  a  heavy  burden  upon  his  shoulders. 
The  care  of  his  flock  pressed  heavily  upon  him, — a 
careless,  wandering,  worldly  flock,  whose  minds  were 
filled  with  the  vanities  of  dress  and  money-getting.  He 
was  wearing  himself  out  in  their  service,  and  yet  he 
16 


1 82  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

took  upon  himself  the  blame  of  their  straying.  Some 
how  he  had  failed  to  discharge  his  duty, — had  said  too 
little  or  too  much,  or  left  something  undone  that  he 
should  have  done, — or  his  fold  would  give  stronger 
indications  of  his  patient  and  earnest  watch-care.  So 
reasoned  this  faithful  shepherd,  growing  thinner  and 
graver  with  the  increase  of  his  cares.  This  was  the 
man  to  soften  stones,  thought  Ophelia,  could  they  be 
brought  within  the  pale  of  his  influence. 

"  I  do  not  know  as  well  as  I  ought,"  she  said,  "  how 
to  direct  you,  but  I  know  one  who  can.  He  is  kind 
and  gentle,  yet  strong.  He  knows  how  to  make  religion 
beautiful  and  attractive."  She  drew  a  card  from  her 
case,  and  wrote  his  address. 

"Will  you  go  with  me?"  The  look  was  keen  and 
piercing. 

There  was  no  sign  of  dissent  in  Ophelia's  face,  no 
reluctance  or  hesitancy  in  her  tone,  as  she  replied, 
"Certainly,  Mrs.  Wharton,  if  you  wish  it."  And  yet 
there  flitted  through  her  mind  a  picture  of  the  sur 
prised  looks  of  her  acquaintances,  who  might  chance 
to  meet  her  on  the  street  with  this  gorgeous  woman ; 
and  the  haughty  displeasure  of  mamma,  should  she 
ever  find  it  out,  caused  her  to  quake  inwardly. 

The  appointment  was  duly  made;  Ophelia  was  to  call 
for  her  singular  protegee  upon  the  following  afternoon. 

"Another  thing,  Mrs.  Wharton,  I  should  like  to 
suggest  before  I  go,"  she  said,  a  slight  flush  rising  to 
her  cheek:  "I  would  recommend  a  plain  and  unob 
trusive  toilette  when  you  attend  divine  service.  Your 
gay  and  costly  attire  is  apt  to  excite  remark,  and  was, 
no  doubt,  the  cause  of  your  attracting  unpleasant  atten 
tion." 

"What!  must  I  give  up  my  diamonds  and  fine 
dresses  to  please  the  hypocrites?"  she  exclaimed  with 
a  sort  of  snort. 

"Mrs.  Wharton,"  said  Ophelia,  firmly,  "if  you  are 
truly  in  earnest  in  your  desire  to  be  a  Christian,  you 


BROKEN  FETTERS.  183 

will  esteem  the  privilege  of  attending  church  of  far 
greater  value  than  that  of  wearing  fine  clothes." 

The  following  afternoon,  Ophelia  told  her  mother 
that  she  was  going  to  call  on  the  minister,  when  ques 
tioned  as  to  her  destination.  Mrs.  Berges  looked  some 
what  surprised,  but  Ophelia  did  not  feel  it  to  be  her 
duty  to  enter  into  particulars.  She  found  Mrs.  Wharton 
ready,-  and  they  were  not  long  in  finding  their  way  to 
the  minister's,  where  they  were  shown  into  the  parlor 
and  informed  that  "  Mr.  Beresford  would  be  in  pre 
sently."  Ophelia  was  not  sorry  of  the  friendly  shelter 
from  the  impolite  scrutiny  to  which  she  had  been  sub 
jected  from  chance  acquaintances.  Mrs.  Wharton  had 
not  bedecked  herself  with  her  usual  splendor,  but, 
nevertheless,  she  had  the  look  of  an  actress,  prepared 
for  some  minor  part  upon  the  stage  with  her  rouged 
cheeks  and  rather  "odd"  dress.  Mrs.  Wharton  had 
not  the  heart  to  discard  all  of  her  jewels  and  ribbons 
at  once.  Who  was  to  know  that  she  was  not  the 
butcher's,  the  baker's,  or  the  shoemaker's  wife,  if  she 
wore  plain  clothes  ?  And  yet  she  had  a  faint  idea  that 
ministers  were  not  to  be  imposed  upon,  like  their  weaker 
fellow-mortals,  by  costly  array.  And  so  she  had,  par 
tially,  followed  Ophelia's  advice. 

Mr.  Beresford  received  them  kindly,  and,  if  he  felt 
any  surprise,  gave  no  sign  of  it.  Ophelia  made  known 
the  object  of  their  visit  at  once.  "I  have  seen  that  you 
were  anxious  for  the  salvation  of  souls,"  she  said. 
"  Mrs.  Wharton  came  to  me  for  advice  and  direction 
as  to  how  she  might  become  a  Christian,  and  feeling 
my  own  incapacity  for  so  high  and  important  a  work, 
I  could  think  of  no  one  more  suited  to  such  a  task  than 
yourself." 

Mr.  Beresford  replied  with  an  immediate  and  earnest 
interest  that  dispelled  all  restraint  at  once,  and  secured 
Mrs.  Wharton's  attention.  It  was  no  lecture;  it  was 
only  an  earnest  conversation,  in  which  Ophelia  was 
called  to  take  part.  How  plain  he  made  everything  ! 


1 84  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

how  simple  !  and  yet  he  did  not  lessen  the  dignity  and 
importance  of  religion  by  making  it  appear  to  be  an 
easy  matter.  It  was  within  the  reach  of  all, — because, 
where  little  is  given,  little  is  required, — but  God  was  a 
jealous  God,  and  would  have  no  reluctant  or  half-way 
service. 

It  is  remarkable  with  what  dull  minds  some  ministers 
go  about  their  master's  work.  The  servants  of  the 
devil  often  evince  a  deeper  energy  and  a  more  vivid 
appreciation  in  their  worldly  service.  It  were  better, 
if  we  do  not  love  to  speak  of  our  kind  Friend  and 
Benefactor,  that  we  remain  silent,  and  not  let  the  world 
see  how  weak  and  poor  is  our  gratitude,  lest  they  un 
derrate  the  power  which  has  inspired  so  insipid  and 
shallow  a  feeling.  Religion  should  be  a  serious  and 
sacred  subject  with  all  Christians.  The  feelings  which 
lie  lightly  upon  the  tongue  must  be  wanting- in  depth. 

Ophelia  observed  a  more  thoughtful,  almost  sad,  ex 
pression  upon  Mrs.  Wharton's  face  as  they  separated 
at  the  minister's  gate,  and  she  felt  no  fear  in  regard  to 
her  future.  She  had  promised  to  attend  church  and  to 
read  her  Bible,  though  she  admitted  that  the  most  of  it 
was  as  Greek  to  her. 

A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Beresford  called  on  Ophelia 
and  thanked  her  for  her  confidence  in  him,  and  ex 
pressed  it  as  his  belief  that  Mrs.  Wharton  would,  in 
the  course  of  time,  become  a  truly  Christian  woman, 
and  a  useful  member  of  society.  Then  he  pronounced 
his  judgment  of  what  she  had  done. 

"It  is  a  question,"  he  said,  "that  I  doubt  not  many 
noble,  pure-minded  women  have  earnestly  studied, — 
whether  it  were  wise  to  take  into  their  simple  hands  the 
reformation  of  misguided  souls.  Such  a  course  would 
be  noble,  but  unwise.  You  did  well  in  transferring 
Mrs.  Wharton  into  practiced  hands.  The  evil  of  such 
natures  as  hers  is  of  too  rank  a  growth  for  tender 
hands  like  yours.  You  would  accomplish  more  toward 
the  marring  of  your  own  serenity  of  mind  than  toward 


BROKEN  FETTERS. 


185 


their  reformation.  It  is  not  your  duty  to  slip  aside 
from  respectable  association  to  assist  these  people  who, 
after  all,  are  not  apt  to  understand  or  appreciate  your 
self-sacrifice." 

"That  seems  a  little  selfish,"  said  Ophelia,  thought 
fully;  "but  I  suppose  I  made  myself  liable  to  remark 
and  misconstructions  of  a  very  disagreeable  character, 
by  appearing  in  public  with  so  conspicuous  and  doubt 
ful  a  personage.  And  these  poor  outcasts  from  respect 
able  society,  what  is  to  become  of  them  ? — who  is  to 
help  them?" 

"  Chronic  evils,  of  strong  and  rude  growth,  can  be 
dealt  with  successfully  only  by  'societies,'  united 
forces,  strong  bodies.  These  alone  can  remove  the 
evils  which  would  only  bruise  such  tender  hands  as 
yours.  It  is  but  just  that  the  vicious  should  suffer  for 
their  own  vices,  but  it  is  scarcely  meet  that  the  virtuous 
should  share  their  shame." 

Well,  the  fetters  were  broken, — Ophelia  was  free 
again, — and  gradually  her  old  friends  returned.  Herve 
came  frequently,  and  always  met  with  a  cordial  recep 
tion.  His  manner  was  much  the  same  as  before — 
grave,  quiet,  but  self-confident.  He  appeared  to  take 
more  interest  in  ladies'  society,  perhaps  because  they 
took  more  interest  in  his.  However,  notwithstanding 
his  popularity  with  the  favorites  of  society,  Herve  was 
frequently  found  in  obscure  corners,  talking  with  some 
neglected  girl  who  had  no  showy  accomplishments  to 
recommend  her  to  public  attention.  It  was  his  way. 

"Dr.  Hughes"  was  now  a  regular  practicing  physi 
cian  in  the  city,  and  relieved  his  honored  patron  from 
the  more  wearisome  and  less  scientific  portion  of  his 
practice.  He  was  highly  respected  and  thoroughly 
trusted  by  his  patients,  especially  the  poor.  The  solid 

men  of  L spoke  of  him  as  a  "rising  man,"  and 

the  solid  men's  daughters  began  to  consider  him  an 
object  worthy  of  their  consideration,  and  to  act  ac 
cordingly.  However,  I  scarcely  think  our  young  friend 
1 6* 


1 86  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

ever  attained  that  degree  of  popularity  which  drove 
the  modest  Virgil  into  the  corners  and  by- ways  of 
Athens,  and  kept  him  skulkyig  in  obscure  alleys. 

Kingsley  never  came  anear.  Since  Adele  had  left, 
he  went  into  society  but  little,  and  then  bestowed  all 
of  his  attention  upon  Miss  Louise  Benton,  a  young 
lady  whom  he  had  met  at  Crab  Orchard.  Ophelia, 
who  had  yielded  reluctantly  to  her  love,  who  had 
fought  against  it  with  shame  and  stern  disapprobation, 
was  very  thankful  to  him  for  keeping  himself  out  of 
her  way.  "He  had  made  her  love  him,"  she  said  to 
herself,  and  now  that  he  had  withdrawn  his  influence 
she  was  free. 

Not  so,  O !  Ophelia !  A  passion  held  in  abeyance 
is  not  dead.  All  human  conquests  are  only  temporary. 
Nothing  that  is  of  the  soul  dies.  He  who  no  longer 
love's  has  never  loved.  Love  is  of  the  spirit,  and  is  ab 
solutely  indestructible.  The  feelings  which  perish  are 
of  the  senses. 

But  Ripley  came.  He  had  recovered  from  his  fit  of 
the  sulks,  and  taking  advantage  of  his  influence  with 
his  aunt,  Mrs.  Berges,  harassed  her  more  than  ever 
with  the  same  questions,  the  same  demands,  over  and 
over.  He  knew  that  she  dared  resent  nothing.  He 
demanded  her  love  as  his  right,  and  the  soft,  dark  eyes 
that  could  look  upon  her  with  unutterable  tenderness 
could  also  accord  her  looks  that  were  sullen  or  fierce 
with  bitter  resentment.  If  she  spoke  kindly  to  soothe 
the  anger  her  indifference  aroused,  he  suddenly  flushed 
with  hope,  and  presumed  upon  her  kindness  as  encour 
agement. 

"But,  Hal,"  she  would  say,  with  rising  anger,  "I 
do  not  love  you! — I  cannot  love  you! — it  is  impos 
sible  !" 

"Oh,  Ophelia,  you  would  love  me  when  we  were 
married ;  you  could  not  help  it ;  I  would  be  so  good 
to  you ;  I  would  love  you  so  devotedly ;  your  every 
wish  should  be  gratified  ;  nothing  should  ever  trouble 


BROKEN  FETTERS. 


187 


you,  if  I  could  help  it ;  you  should  be  the  happiest 
darling  in  the  city;  no  woman  would  be  so  petted  and 
adored." 

"  Hush,  Hal !  Love  and  fine  things  could  not  make 
me  happy ;  besides,  I  have  no  wish  for  adoration, — that 
belongs  to  the -Deity  alone.  Hal,  you  do  not  under 
stand  my  disposition  at  all.  When  you  discovered 
how  different  were  our  tastes  and  feelings,  you  would 
no  longer  love  me.  I  have  some  qualities  which  you 
could  have  no  patience  with." 

"Oh,  I  would  be  willing  to  risk  that.  You  have  no 
bad  traits;  I  know  that,  Ophelia.  You  are  as  near 
perfection  as  any  human  being  on  this  earth;  I  would 
not  have  you  different ;  just  as  you  are  you  please  me, 
Ophelia." 

"  Perfection  !  That  shows  how  little  you  know  me. 
Hal,  you  have  no  idea  of  the  wickedness  that  some 
times  lies  hidden  in  my  heart !  If  I  should  marry  you, 
and  could  not  love  you,  Hal,  I  should  hate  and  despise 
you  ;  and  there  is  no  telling  to  what  such  a  desperate 
state  of  affairs  might  drive  me ;  I  might  be  tempted  to 
murder  you  !" 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  persisted  Hal;  "only  say  you 
will  marry  me." 

"It  is  useless  to  speak  to  me  on  this  subject  any 
more,  Hal,"  she  said,  impatiently.  "You  will  always 
receive  the  same  answer :  I  cannot  love  you ;  it  is  im 
possible  !" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  at  her  with  a 
strange  expression  that  made  her  shudder.  "  I  know 
why — you  love  Kingsley?" 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Hal.  It  is  only  because  I  natur 
ally  have  no  love  for  you."  She  could  not  bring  her 
self  to  say,  "  I  naturally  hate  you." 

"I  don't  care;  you  shall  never  marry  Kingsley!" 
he  said  fiercely. 

"I  don't  want  to  marry  Kingsley,"  said  Ophelia, 
ready  to  cry  from  mortification  and  anger;  "but  I  am 


1 88  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

determined  never  to  marry  you,  and  I  don't  want  you 
to  come  here  any  more." 

"  I  WILL  !"  said  Ripley ;  and  continued  to  come. 

Mr.  Berges  always  seemed  to  like  Hal,  and  Mrs. 
Berges,  having  been  thwarted  in  her  former  matrimo-  . 
nial  scheme,  was  more  determined  than  ever  to  over 
rule  Ophelia's  stubborn  will  and  dispose  of  her  to  her 
own  satisfaction  and  credit ;  therefore,  Ophelia  was 
compelled  to  hold  her  peace  and  submit  to  the  enforced 
companionship,  no  matter  how  great  her  reluctance. 
She  never  appeared  in  public  now  without  him,  and  it 
was  generally  believed  that  they  were  engaged. 

In  these  dark  days — days  without  either  pleasure  or 
profit — Ophelia  turned  to  Herve,  as  she  had  always 
turned  to  his  sister,  for  comfort.  In  their  real,  inner 
nature,  this  brother  and  sister  were  very  much  alike. 
But  for  Adele's  wonderful  beauty,  which  had  drawn 
upon  her  unusual  temptations  to  frivolity,  indolence, 
and  a  false  levity,  and  surrounded  her  with  an  atmos 
phere  of  adulation  and  seductive  excitement,  she 
might  have  been  as  earnest,  as  steady,  and  reliable  as 
her  brother.  Better,  far  better,  had  it  been  for  Adele 
had  she  been,  as  her  mother  said,  "  homely,  like  her 
sisters."  What  real  pleasure  had  her  beauty  ever 
brought  her  ?  It  had  excited  the  envy  of  her  sisters 
and  embittered  her  home  life ;  it  had  created  in  her 
mind  a  thirst  for  popularity  and  social  distinction,  and. 
finally  had  drawn  around  her  the  brilliant,  unscrupu 
lous  men  of  society,  who  sought  their  own  pleasure  and 
amusement  regardless  of  all  consequences. 

I  am  not  deeply  versed  in  theological  lore,  John, 
and  am  sorely  puzzled,  now  and  then,  in  trying  to 
solve  the  grand  problem  of  life,  "Right  and  Wrong." 
And  as  you  are  not  quite  so  visionary  and  fanciful,  and 
a  little  more  substantial  in  the  matter  of  judgment,  it 
behooves  me  to  appeal  to  you  in  all  questions  upon 
which  I  incline  to  heterodox  opinions. 


THE    UNKNOWN  BRIDEGROOM.  iSg 

In  the  parable  of  the  "talents,"  wherein  one  scru 
pulous  personage  carefully  deposited  his  small  portion 
in  a  very  secret  and  safe  place  of  keeping,  the  "talent" 
is  supposed  to  represent  intellectual  qualifications. 
Now,  John,  would  any  but  an  idiot  fear  to  lose  his 
mind  by  using  it  ? 

It  is  my  opinion  that  the  "talent"  typifies  one's 
piety.  He  held  himself  aloof  from  the  world,  for  fear 
of  contamination.  He  plodded  over  one  little  circle 
of  duties,  day  after  day,  fearing  to  venture  beyond, 
because  of  'the  publicans  and  sinners.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  mingle  freely  with  them  for  the  pur 
pose  of  doing  them  good,  because  he  feared  that  his 
righteous  soul  might  suffer  a  diminution  of  its  sanctity. 

It  is  possible  that  others  besides  you  and  I,  John, 
may  hold  this  same  opinion,  but  whenever  I  have  been 
lectured  from  this  text,  it  has  always  been  for  the  pur 
pose  of  impressing  upon  my  mind  the  utmost  im 
portance  of  improving  my  mental  faculties,  and  of 
urging  my  thoughts  to  their  loftiest  limits  of  concep 
tion,  but  never,  under  any  circumstances,  to  allow 
myself  to  be  drawn  into  any  society  but  the  most  cor 
rect  and  improving. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE   UNKNOWN   BRIDEGROOM. 

As  it  grew  unpleasantly  warm  in  L ,  and  cases  of 

sunstroke  and  cholera  began  to  be  reported,  all  of 
those  fortunate  inhabitants  who  found  it  practicable 
transformed  their  wardrobe  into  baggage,  forsook  their 
old  haunts,  and  hurried  off  to  fashionable  summer 
resorts,  or  rural  retreats,  according  to  their  circum 
stances  and  means.  But  few  remained  behind  as  a 


190 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


matter  of  choice,  for  the  good  citizens  of  L love 

their  ease,  and  think  of  comfort  as  well  as  gaki. 

"  Papa,  I  have  a  proposition  to  make,"  said  Ophelia, 
as  they  all  sat  around  the  table  discussing  the  "  where" 
and  "how"  for  disposing  of  themselves  for  the  sum 
mer.  Mrs.  Berges  was  in  favor  of  Saratoga  or  New 
port  ;  but  Mr.  Berges  voted  those  too  exclusive  to  be 
entertaining,  filled  up  as  they  were  with  the  same  sets 
year  after  year.  Nahant  belonged  to  Boston,  Cape 
May  to  Philadelphia ;  but  Long  Branch  was  more  cos- 
mopolitan,  more  representative  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States.  He  had  visited  them  all,  and  decidedly 
preferred  Long  Branch. 

' '  Because  we  spent  our.  honeymoon  at  Long  Branch, ' ' 
suggested  Mrs.  Berges,  with  a  smile.  Mr.  Berges  ad 
mitted  that  that  might  have  something  to  do  with  his 
preference,  and  then  inquired  of  his  daughter  what 
her  proposition  might  be. 

"I  want  Adele  to  go  with  us.  I  will  wear  my  old 
dresses, — and  they  are  plenty  good  enough, — or  go  to 
some  cheap  place,  if  Adele  may  go  along." 

"What!  give  up  Long  Branch  and  a  chance  of 
creating  a  sensation  with  a  handsome  new  outfit,  to 
have  a  dashing  rival  go  along?  Such  generosity  and 
self-sacrifice  deserve  to  be  encouraged.  Adele  shall 
go,  if  only  to  prove  the  endurable  quality  of  feminine 
friendship.  Only  you  must  allow  me  to  laugh  at  the 
recital  of  your  grievances  at  the  end  of  the  tour." 

Adele  came  joyfully  at  their  summons,  and  agreed  to 
submit  to  the  humility  of  sharing  Ophelia's  wardrobe, 
that  she  might  be  no  discredit  to  the  party ;  she  would 
submit  to  anything  rather  than  spend  another  lonely, 
tiresome  summer  at  home. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walt  man  had  returned  from  their 
bridal  tour,  had  taken  a  handsome  house,  and  com 
menced  housekeeping  in  great  style.  Mrs.  Waltman 
unexpectedly  called  one  afternoon.  "Of  course  Miss 
Hughes  must  naturally  feel  hard  toward  her  for  taking 


THE    UNKNOWN  BRIDEGROOM. 


191 


Sid  away  from  her,  poor  thing  !"  she  reasoned  compas 
sionately,  "and  so  she  would  waive  ceremony  and  call 
first." 

She  could  talk  of  nothing  but  "  Sid,  Sid."  There 
never  was  such  a  husband,  never  !  the  most  devoted 
lover  !  And  really  it  was  not  such  a  wonder,  he  had  a 
right  to  be  proud  of  her.  She  had  created  the  greatest 
sensation  wherever  they  went ;  and  everybody  had  fallen 
in  love  with  her.  She  could  not  count  the  number  of 
handsome  young  men  who  had  flocked  around  her,  so 
that  Sid  was  made  tremendously  jealous  every  day, 
and  would  sometimes  leave  her  a  whole  afternoon,  he 
was  so 'vexed.  But  she  did  not  care  for  that;  Mr.  Sid 
must  get  used  to  such  things.  She  didn't  intend  to 
settle  down  into  a  "sitting  hen"  because  she  was 
married — not  she. 

In  vain  Ophelia  and  Adele  tried  to  change  the  sub 
ject  into  a  less  personal  channel.  Nothing  else  in 
terested  her,  and  she  was  determined  to  talk  of  nothing 
else.  "They  are  envious,"  she  thought,  and  Viola 
enjoyed  exciting  any  one's  envy;  and  so  she  spoke  on 
no  other  topic,  until  just  as  she  was  leaving,  then  she 
suddenly  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  Adele,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  I  saw  Kingsley 
yesterday  evening  about  dusk  promenading  with  a 
dark-haired  lady,  who  was  evidently  very  much  in 
love  with  him.  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  it's  my  opinion 
that  her  social  standing  is  exceedingly  low.  I  must  say 
I  was  surprised.  I  never  would  have  thought  that  of 
Kingsley ;  he  was  always  such  a  high-minded  young 
gentleman." 

"You  must  be  mistaken,"  said  Adele,  coldly. 

"No,  I  am  not,"  exclaimed  Viola,  growing  more 
certain  as  she  saw  her  judgment  doubted.  "  She  had 
on  a  very  short  suit,  such  as  no  real  ladies  wear  now, 
and  a  dingy  scarf,  without  a  bit  of  fringe  on  it  that  I 
could  see,  and  a  winter  hat  !  Now,  Adele,  a  winter 
hat  this  time  of  year  !  Could  she  have  been  much?" 


192 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


It  was  useless  to  argue  with  Viola.  She  was  one  of 
those  persons  whom  it  is  unpleasant  to  dispute  with.  Her 
judgments,  no  matter  upon  how  slender  a  foundation 
they  were  formed,  stood  firm  in  her  own  mind,  because 
she  respected  no  power  of  discernment  so  highly  as 
her  own. 

"The  little  goose!"  exclaimed  Adele,  closing  the 
door  after  her.  "She  don't  know  what  she's  talking 
about  half  the  time." 

But  Ophelia,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  rating  every 
one's  judgment  above  her  own,  was  not  so  skeptical. 
She  felt  a  sort  of  anguish  at  the  thought  of  Kingsley's 
unworthiness,  as  if  he  had  been  anything  to  her.  There 
is  no  use  in  trying  to  escape  the  consequences  of  sin  in 
this  world.  If  we  succeed  in  preserving  our  own  souls 
from  sin,  we  must  surfer  for  the  sins  of  others. 

The  L "delegation"  at  Long  Branch  this  season 

included  a  goodly  portion  of  the  elite  of  the  city  (ac 
cording  to  newspaper  report),  among  whom  were 
Major  Boynton,  Hal  Ripley,  and  Sid's  honored  uncle 
Mr.  Beckworth.  Sid  declined  going,  his  finances  being 
in  a  collapsed  condition  from  recent  heavy  drains. 
And  Herve?  no  amount  of  pleasure  could  possibly 
have  induced  Herve  to  desert  his  post  in  this  most 
sickly  season  of  the  year;  and  so,  while  this  gay  party 
strolled  upon  the  beach,  read  poetry,  and  talked  senti 
ment  in  the  moonlight,  Herve  plodded  the  hot  streets, 
and  sat  by  sick  beds  where  the  tainted  air  breathed  of 
disease  and  death.  Is  not  his  a  beautiful  character? 
this  sober,  earnest,  faithful,  unfanciful  Herve  !  He 
could  never  have  written  a  poem,  not  even  a  fanciful 
little  story,  if  he  had  tried  ever  so  hard  ;  but  he  could 
do  better  things  than  these, — he  could  diminish  the 
pain  of  aching  bodies ;  he  could  lighten  the  heavy 
hearts  of  the  despondent ;  and  even  to  the  sin-sick 
soul  he  could  point  the  way  of  life. 

He  was  loved  and  trusted  by  his  patients.  Merely 
the  sight  of  his  genial  face,  and  the  sound  of  his  cheer- 


THE    UNKNOWN  BRIDEGROOM.  193 

ful  voice  made  them  better.  With  all  its  wearying 
duties  and  responsibilities,  Herve  loved  and  honored 
his  profession,  else  he  could  never  have  acquired  that 
power  and  position  in  it  to  which  he  had  attained  in 
so  short  a  time.  To  attain  to  any  eminent  degree  of 
success  in  any  profession,  it  is  necessary  that  one  should 
hold  it  in  high  respect.  One  may  toil  with  the  hands 
while  the  spirit  holds  disdainfully  aloof,  secretly  scorn 
ing  his  occupation,  and  it  may  bring  him  his  daily 
bread,  but  no  honor.  So  long  as  he  refuses  to  bestow 
upon  it  proper  respect,  it  will  yield  him  no  pleasure. 

And  so  Herve  administered  powders  and  pills,  and 
kind,  cheering  words  to  his  sick  and  afflicted,  and 
counted  it  much  better  than  loitering  amid  scenes  of 
gayety ;  and  he  carried  a  much  more  contented  heart 
with  him  than  many  of  the.  gay  pleasure-seekers ;  a 
thousand  times  that  summer  did  he  say,  "  this  is  better 
than  enjoyment." 

One  morning  as  he  sat  at  his  desk  engaged  in  prepar 
ing  the  mortuary  statistics  of  the  city, — his  patron  being 
one  of  the  directors  of  the  Board  of  Health, — some  one 
entered.  As  he  had  yearly  finished,  he  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  relinquish  his  work,  and  continued  writ 
ing.  When  he  had  thrown  down  his  pen  and  pushed 
back  his  chair,  a  surly  voice  exclaimed  : 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  are  through,  at  last?" 

Dr.  Hughes  arose  in  astonishment.     It  was  Tom. 

"  Why,  Tom,  how  in  the  world  did  you  get  here?  I 
supposed  that  you  were  a  fixture  in  St.  Louis." 

"  Hoped so,  I  suppose,"  said  Tom,  sullenly.  "Came 
by  rail;  how  else  would  I  get  here?" 

Herve  shook  his  brother's  hand  cordially,  and  re 
plied  :  "  Oh,  there  are  such  things  as  balloons,  and 
wings  are  talked  of  for  the  twentieth  century.  We 
hadn't  heard  from  you  for  so  long,  we  thought  you 
had  grown  prosperous  and  forgotten  us  all.  Where's 
your  wife?" 

"In  St.  Louis,"  Tom  replied,  drily. 
I  17 


194 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


"You  ought  to  have  brought  her  with  you.  It  would 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  form  the  acquaintance  of  my 
sister-in-law." 

"  I  don't  know  as  you'll  ever  have  that  pleasure. 
The  fact  is,  Meta  was  disappointed  in  me.  She  thought 
I  was  rich.  And  her  mother  hated  me  and  kept  us  in 
continual  hot  water.  It  was  a  dog's  life.  I  couldn't 
stand  it,  so  I  came  away." 

Herve  looked  serious. 

Now  that  he  was  started,  and  the  disagreeable  intro 
ductory  through  with,  Tom  flowed  on  as  fluently  as  of 
yore.  He  was  tired  of  St.  Louis,  any  way.  There  was 
no  society,  no  refinement  in  the  place.  Herve  refrained 
from  suggesting  that  he  was  seeking  in  the  wrong 
place  when  he  expected  to  find  it  in  a  gambling-saloon. 
He  wanted  to  go  to  Chicago.  There  was  a  city  worth 
talking  about !  "I  met  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Curry, 
— a  real  sharp,  shrewd  chap  he  was  too, — who  said" — 
and  here  followed  a  verbose  account  of  the  marvels 
that  could  be  performed  in  the  way  of  making  money 
in  the  wonderful  city  of  Chicago. 

"Curry  is  going,  and — the  fact  is,  I  need  a  little 
change,  Herve.  I  shall  want  a  little  to  start  on,  and— 
could  you  loan  me  about  fifty  dollars?  I  would  be 
much  obliged  to  you,  and  would  soon  be  able  to  pay 
you  back." 

"I  haven't  that  much  in  the  world,  Tom." 

"Well,  twenty -five  would  do,  I  suppose.  You 
surely  have  twenty-five,  Herve." 

Herve  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  counted  out  the 
desired  sum  without  a  word.  There  was  precious  little 
left.  Tom  was  profuse  in  his  thanks,  and  soon  took 
his  leave  in  high  spirits.  He  was  off  for  Chicago,  to 
make  his  fortune. 

The  next  day  he  was  back.  He  had  been  on  a  little 
spree,  and  somehow  lost  his  money.  He  looked  crest 
fallen  and  sick,  and  whined  over  his  "misfortunes" 
until  Herve  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  temper. 


THE    UNKNOWN  BRIDEGROOM. 


195 


"  I  collected  a  little  money  yesterday,  Tom  ;  and  if 
I  thought  your  going  to  Chicago  would  do  you  any 
good,  you  might  have  it.  Take  my  advice :  go  back 
to  your  wife." 

"  Never  !"  exclaimed  Tom,  fiercely. 

Herve  counted  out  another  twenty-five,  and  felt  as  if 
he  were  depositing  it  in  a  "faro  bank."  "I  can't  do 
anything  with  that"  said  Tom,  doggedly.  "It  would 
take  it  all  to  get  there ;  and  how  should  I  live  until  I 
got  into  business?" 

But  he  took  it,  nevertheless.  "I  might  get  work 
here.  You  are  pretty  well  known  by  this  time,  and 
might  recommend  me." 

"  What  sort  of  work,  Tom?" 

"Oh,  anything — anything  that  is  genteel,  of  course. 
No  dray-driving,  grocery  drudgery,  or  anything  of  that 
sort,  you  know.  Something  in  the  liquor  line.  That 
is  my  forte." 

"I  should  prefer  the  dray-driving,"  said  Herve. 

"There  is  where  our  tastes  differ.  You  know  we 
never  could  agree  on  that  subject,  and  so  there's  no 
use  to  discuss  it." 

After  a  little  further  talk,  Tom  took  his  departure, 
promising  to  call  when  he  needed  that  "recommen 
dation,  security,  or  anything  of  that  sort." 

I  expect  no  sympathy  for  this  character.  One  may 
pity  such ;  but  sympathy  involves  a  degree  of  respect 
to  which  poor  Tom  has  forfeited  all  claim.  As  for  pity, 
I  doubt  not  but  Tom  was  of  the  opinion  of  the  indi 
vidual  who  averred  that  "  it  cost  nothing  and  was 
worth  nothing." 

And  yet,  Tom's  boyhood  gave  as  fair  promise  of 
noble  manhood  as  his  respected  brother's.  Though 
not  of  so  solid  and  firm  a  structure,  he  was  quicker  and 
keener.  But  you  know  how  whisky  undermines  the 
character,  depraves  the  healthy  propensities,  and  turns 
all  the  good  of  one's  nature  into  evil. 

In   due  time   our   Long  Branch   party  returned  to 


I96  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

their  homes.  Everyone  had  had  a  "delightful  time," 
and  had  much  to  relate  in  regard  to  their  experiences. 
Miss  Hughes  had  returned  home.  It  was  rumored  that 
she  was  to  be  married  soon  to  a  wealthy  New  Yorker. 
One  of  the  party  professed  to  have  heard  the  court 
ship;  and  the  young  lady's  reply,  according  to  the 
informant,  was  so  characteristic  that  no  one  doubted 
the  genuineness  of  the  report. 

"I  am  poor,  Mr.  Brady, — poor  as  the  beggar  who 
sat  at  Dives'  gate;  if  you  know  how  poor  that  is." 

"It  is  no  matter,"  returned  the  gallant  Mr.  Brady; 
"I  am  rich,  and  that  is  sufficient." 

Our  informant,  being  obliged  to  move  on  at  this 
juncture,  could  report  no  further,  but  there  were  no 
doubts  entertained  in  regard  to  the  answer.  Of  course 
"the  beggar  who  sat  at  Dives'  gate"  wouldn't  be 
such  a  fool  as  to  decline  being  transferred  therefrom  to 
fine  raiment  and  a  palace.  There  was  another  party, 
however,  who  suspected  Major  Boynton  of  being 
the  lucky  man.  At  any  rate,  of  one  thing  all  were 
certain, — Miss  Hughes  was  undoubtedly  to  be  married 
to  somebody.  Therefore  no  one  was  surprised  when 
invitations  to  a  reception  at  Mr.  Berges's  were  issued. 

The  marriage  was  performed  in  a  little  country  church, 
with  a  few  of  the  good  neighbors  for  witnesses.  Major 
Boynton  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  city  that  day,  so 
he  was  supposed  to  be  the  happy  man.  The  reception 
that  evening  was  a  grand  success.  All  the  elite  of 

L were  there.     Such  a  crush  of  rich  poplins,  silks, 

tulle,  and  laces,  with  jewels  rare  (including  borrowed 
and  hired  !)  enough  to  ransom  a  city. 

Suddenly  a  hush  fell  upon  the  crowded  rooms,  and  a 
sort  of  thrill  ran  through  the  expectant  assembly.  Sid 
Waltman,  who  had  been  flitting  gayly  here  and  there, 
stood  suddenly  as  if  turned  to  stone,  for  there  beside 
the  woman  whom  he  had  once  worshiped,  his  keen  eye 
taking  in  everything  with  its  wonted  rapidity  and  calm 
ness,  bowing  and  smiling  in  return  for  the  exclamations 


THE    UNKNOWN  BRIDEGROOM. 


197 


and  congratulations  of  the  crowd,  stood  his  honored 
uncle,  Mr.  Beckworth.  Could  it  be  possible?  or  was 
this  some  trick?  And  then  he  looked  farther  on,  in 
the  expectation  of  seeing  Major  Boynton  or  that  New 
Yorker.  But  neither  were  there. 

And  the  bride?  If  she  had  been  lovely  in  her  simple 
toilette,  in  her  rich  bridal  robe  she  was  resplendent. 
Could  there  have  been  anything  lovelier  than  that 
heavy  white  silk,  faintly  tinted  with  blue?  All  the 
other  ladies  straightway  felt  angry  with  themselves  for 
not  having  thought  of  it  before.  There  was  a  lace 
bertha  and  a  short  lace  overskirt,  looped  here  and  there 
with  blush  roses.  The  train  was  three  yards  long.  The 
dress  must  surely  have  been  imported,  for  there  had 
never  been  anything  like  it  in  the  city  before.  Her 
coiffure  was  elaborate,  and  in  strict  accordance  with 
the  prevailing  mode ;  and  diamond  ear-rings  glistened 
in  her  pearly  ears. 

How  perilously  beautiful  the  creature  was !  Her 
eyes  appeared  larger  and  more  lustrous  than  ever,  and 
she  looked  about  with  a  half-gracious,  half-satirical 
smile,  evidently  enjoying  the  sensation  she  was  creat 
ing. 

As  Sid  stood  against  the  wall,  viewing  the  scene 
with  an  inscrutable  countenance, — a  sort  of  wooden 
countenance, — some  one  touched  his  elbow.  "You 
seem  in  no  hurry  to  make  known  to  your  uncle  your 
approbation  of  his  choice,"  said  an  ironical  voice. 

The  sound  aroused  him,  but  so  preoccupied  were 
his  thoughts  that  he  did  not  even  perceive  the  taunt 
embodied  in  the  speech.  He  hunted  up  his  wife. 
There  was  nothing  poetical  in  the  over-dressed  little 
woman,  and  Sid  examined  the  bedizened  little  figure 
disapprovingly.  Poetical  thought  vanishes  at  the  sight 
of  such  loads  of  jewelry  and  flying  ribbons.  With 
this  bundle  of  millinery  on  his  arm,  Sid  presented 
himself  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  uncle's  bride.  She 
received  him  graciously, — it  was  the  first  time  she  had 
17* 


!98  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

seen  him  since  his  marriage, — and  extended  her  con 
gratulations  in  return  without  the  slightest  embarrass 
ment. 

There  was  a  rich  repast  and  wine  in  abundance,  but 
not  in  excess ;  after,  music  and  dancing.  All  was  life 
and  gayety,  and  every  one  seemed  in  a  high  state  of 
enjoyment.  All  except  Ophelia,  who  stole  away  from 
the  crowd  into  gloomy  recesses  of  the  grounds,  and 
wept  among  the  shrubbery.  She  had  lost  her  friend  ! 
They  would  never  more  be  to  each  other  as  they  had 
been.  From  this  night  their  paths  in  life  diverged. 

The  night  closes  down.  There  is  no  moon,  and  the 
purplish  shadows  upon  the  lawn  make  me  half  afraid. 
Do  not  look  so  doleful,  John.  There  must  be  a  little 
dark,  you  know,  that  we  may  the  more  enjoy  the  light. 
Smile  a  little,  can't  you? 

I  am  no  machine,  John,  to  plod  on  and  on,  with  no 
enlivening  compliments  and  smiles.  I  must  pause  a 
little,  now  and  then,  to  sun  myself,  and  to  warm  all 
the  chilling  fears,  the  worry  and  trouble,  out  of  my 
mind,  in  the  balmy  inspiration  of  your  genial  presence. 
I  am  a  worthless  vagabond,  perhaps,  to  be  wanting  to 
stop  work,  now  and  then,  to  idle  in  the  sun. 

My  love  of  comfort,  of  beauty  and  luxury,  would 
make  me  an  unsafe  ruler,  I  fear,  because  I  should  be 
too  ready  to  confer  rewards,  too  loath  to  administer 
punishment. 

Bravo!  That  was  well  done,  John;  but  I  advise  you 
to  look  a  little  less  pleasing,  or  I  shall  be  wanting  to 
lecture  you  a  few  hours  longer, — I  find  it  so  enchanting 
to  be  admired  and  approved. 

Now  have  I  some  faint  conception  of  the  pre-eminent 
satisfaction  which  sustained  the  fair  Scheherezade 
through  those  tedious  "thousand  and  one  nights," 
when  rhe  found  her  lord  postponing  her  execution  that 
he  might  hear  the  conclusion  of  her  story. 


DOMESTIC  BLISS.  199 


CHAPTER    XX. 

DOMESTIC  BLISS. 

AFTER  a  short  visit  to  Baltimore,  where  dwelt  the 
greater  portion  of  Mr.  Beckworth's  aristocratic  rela 
tions,  the  bridal  pair  returned  to  L .  Mrs.  Beck- 
worth  had  scarcely  had  time  to  unpack  her  trunks 
before  half  the  city  rushed  to  call  on  her.  Mrs.  Walt- 
man  was  among  the  first.  "Surely  any  one  ought  to 
be  happy  here,"  she  said,  looking  around  upon  the 
handsome  furniture.  "Mr.  Beckworth  must  be  very 
rich.  I  think  he  ought  to  help  his  nephew  a  little 
more  than  he  does." 

Adele  made  no  reply  whatever. 

"It's  not  romantic  at  all,  to  be  married,  as  I 
thought  it  would  be,"  she  continued.  "There  is  more 
of  the  dust-pan  and  cooking-stove  in  it  than  anything 
else.  Servants  have  to  be  watched,  or  they'll  leave  dirt 
in  the  corners,  steal  the  meat,  or  waste  the  groceries. 
Ma  says  she  has  had  to  look  into  such  things  all  her 
life,  and  so  does  every  married  woman  who  expects  to 
be  of  any  service  to  her  husband.  I  want  Sid  to  think 
I'm  some  account,  but  I  do  wish  these  things  would 
come  right  without  so  much  bother.  Just  think ! 
Sid  hasn't  taken  me  to  the  opera  since  we  were  mar 
ried, — only  on  our  tour, — nor  any  place  else  scarcely  ; 
and  I  thought  he  would  be  so  proud  of  me,  and  want 
to  take  me  everywhere.  But  Sid  has  very  much  to  do. 
I  don't  see  any  use  in  his  working  so  hard.  Pa's  rich, 
'and  it  all  belongs  to  me.  I  told  him  so  once,  but  he 
said  it  was  doing  him  no  good  if  it  did  ;  and  was  not 
likely  ever  to  do  him  any  good.  I  am  afraid  Sid  and 
pa  have  had  a  little  quarrel.  I  mean  to  ask  pa  for  some 
money, — then  we  can  live  a  little  easier.  And  don't  you 


200  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

think,  I've  got  but  one  dress — barely  one — since  I  was 
married  !  and  that's  not  paid  for.  It's  an  awful  thing 
to  be  in  debt!  I  live  in  constant  terror  of  the  bills." 

"I  suppose  your  husband  has  given  up  all  his  clubs 
and  old  haunts,  now  that  he  is  married  and  has  some 
one  to  stay  at  home  with  him  of  evenings?"  said 
Adele,  in  the  hope  of  diverting  the  subject. 

"Oh,  dear,  no !  Sid  is  a  politician,  and  has  to  attend 
all  sorts  of  meetings,  you  know.  They  have  splendid 
suppers  for  him  sometimes,  and  Sid  loves  nice  things 
to  eat ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  that  is  what  we  seldom 
have  at  home,  our  cook  is  such  a  trifling  one.  Have 
you  a  good  cook?  We'll  come  around  and  take  tea, 
some  time, — Sid  and  I, — when  he  has  no  other  engage 
ment.  You're  our  aunt  now,  you  know."  And  she 
laughed  merrily. 

Adele  replied  that  their  cook  seemed  to  understand 
her  business,  and  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  have 
ihe  honor  of  their  company  to  tea  any  time  they 
wished  to  come. 

"I  used  to  think,"  resumed  Viola,  "that  it  would 
be  so  grand  to  dress  of  evenings  and  run  down  to  meet 
Sid  and  get  kissed  and  made  much  of;  but  Sid  is  always 
tired  and  hungry,  and  thinks  more  about  eating  than 
kissing,  and  he  never  cares  what  I  have  on  ;  says  calico 
is  as  good  as  anything ;  and  if  my  hair  is  ever  so  nicely 
done,  he  never  knows  it.  It's  quite  disheartening,  I 
assure  you.  Does  Mr.  Beckworth  care  what  you  have 
on,  or  how  you  arrange  your  hair?" 

"  He  selects  my  wardrobe  to  suit  his  own  fancy,  and 
orders  the  dressing  of  my  hair  as  regularly  as  he  orders 
dinner.  I  have  no  trouble  about  anything,"  returned 
Adele. 

"  And  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  sit  up  and  be  hand 
some,  or  drive  about  and  amuse  yourself  as  you  please  ?' ' 
said  Viola,  with  a  sigh. 

"That  is  all,"  returned  Mrs.  Beckworth,  uncon 
sciously  answering  the  sigh. 


DOMESTIC  BLISS.  2OI 

Viola  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  silent  envy,  and 
perhaps  wonder  that  she  seemed  so  indifferent  and  un 
thankful  for  her  happy  fate.  "Oh  dear !"  she  exclaimed, 
at  length,  a  little  petulantly.  "  If  2  only  had  such  a 
chance,  how  happy  I  would  be!" 

Mrs.  Beckworth  was  silent,  and  Viola,  looking  at  her 
watch,  suddenly  exclaimed  that  it  was  six ;  and  Sid 
would  be  at  home  at  six,  and  that  she  must  hurry.  She 
kissed  Adele  hurriedly,  and,  with  many  injunctions  "  to 
call  soon,",  hastened  down  the  hall.  At  the  door  she 
paused  to  inquire  about  Kingsley  ;  talked  half  an  hour 
longer ;  then  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  broke  away 
and  hurried  down  the  street. 

Sid  was  already  at  home.  He  received  her  apologies 
placidly,  being  engrossed  in  his  evening  paper.  She 
sat  down  by  him  and  pulled  at  the  paper.  "Do  put 
it  up,  Sid.  How  tiresome  you  are  !  You  are  at  home 
little  enough,  and  then  you  must  always  be  poking 
over  a  paper  or  a  book.  You  don't  have  to  go  away 
this  evening,  do  you,  .Sid  ?" 

"Yes;  with  Peters:  to  a  convention,"  returned  Sid, 
continuing  to  read. 

"I  wish  Peters  was  dead  !"  returned  Viola,  pouting. 
"You  are  always  going  off  some  place  with  Peters." 

Sid  did  not  look  up  from  his  paper. 

"  Please,  ma'am,"  said  Bridget,  at  the  door,  "  hair's 

a  boy  from  Madame  B 's  with  a  bill.  Says  it's  forty 

dollars  for  makin'  yer  dress,  and  that  she's  not  a-going 
to  wait  no  longer." 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  him  away  ?"  exclaimed  Viola, 
in  alarm. 

"I  did,  mum,  but  he  wouldn't  go." 

The  boy  stood  stubbornly  at  the  door,  holding  the  bill. 

"  I'll  write  her  a  note,"  said  Viola,  in  a  flurry  ;  "  per 
haps  she'll  wait." 

"You  needn't,"  said  the  boy,  "for  she  said  I  weren't 
to  bring  her  no  more  notes,  and  that  she  needed  the 
money." 


202  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Sid  smoked  and  read  phlegmatically. 

"Sid,  why  don't  you  tell  me  what  to  do?"  pouted 
Viola. 

"  Do  as  you  please,  Viola.  I've  not  got  forty  dollars 
in  the  world." 

Viola  rummaged  in  a  drawer,  and  produced  a  five- 
dollar  bill,  which  she  gave  the  boy,  with  a  promise  to 
come  down  soon  and  "  settle"  for  the  remainder.  The 
boy  took  it  sullenly  and  vanished. 

Supper  was  announced,  and  during  the  meal  Viola 
entered  into  minute  description  of  her  afternoon  call. 
Sid  listened  with  interest,  but  made  no  comments. 

They  had  scarcely  returned  from  supper  when  there 
was  a  ring,  and  some  one  was  heard  in  the  hall  inquir 
ing  for  Mr.  Waltman. 

"  It's  Peters,  I  know;  and  you're  not  going  now,  Sid  ? 
We  were  having  such  a  nice  time." 

"Come  in,  Peters,"  said  Mr.  Waltman,  rising  and 
handing  him  a  chair. 

Mr.  Peters  was  a  large,  fine-looking  gentleman,  with 
a  commanding  air ;  a  gentleman  of  political  distinction 
and  influence,  whom  Sid  was  anxious  to  cultivate.  He 
advanced  smilingly,  and  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is 
sure  of  a  gracious  reception. 

"Good-evening,  Mrs.  Waltman,"  he  said,  making 
his  best  bow  to  the  pretty  lady  of  the  house. 

But  the  pretty  lady  of  the  house  looked  sullen,  and 
scarcely  returned  his  polite  greeting. 

"Sit  down,  Peters,"  said  his  friend,  wheeling  an 
easy-chair  toward  the  grate. 

"Thank  you,  no,"  returned  Mr.  Peters,  beginning 
to  perceive  a  chilliness  in  the  atmosphere.  "Are  you 
going  to  the  convention  ?  It  is  quite  time  we  were  off. ' ' 

"No,  Mr.  Peters,"  said  Viola,  briskly,  "he  is  not 
going  to  the  convention.  I  should  like  very  well  to 
have  you  come  here,  Mr.  Peters,  if  you  came  for  any 
good,  for  I  think  you  are  a  real  nice  gentleman  ;  but 
so  long  as  you  come  to  take  my  husband  away,  I'd 


DOMESTIC  BLISS. 


203 


rather  not  have  you  come.  It  seems  to  me  there's  a 
sight  of  conventions  to  go  to." 

Mr.  Peters's  handsome  physiognomy  reddened.  He 
fumbled  with  his  hat  without  saying  a  word.  He  had 
no  resources  wherewith  to  deal  with  angry,  impolite 
women.  That  sort  of  business  was  out  -of  his  line. 
He  was  accustomed  to  the  utmost  deference  from  the 
ladies,  and  this  sudden  defiance  completely  astounded 
as  well  as  angered  him. 

"  The  fact  is,  Peters,  my  wife  is  a  very  pretty,  affec 
tionate  little  creature,"  said  Sid,  when  they  were  in  the 
street;  "but  she's  a  silly  child,  and  allowances  must 
be  made  for  her.  I  have  to  resort  to  all  sorts  of  ex 
pedients  to  get  off  from  her  of  evenings.  It  is  too  bad 
to  leave  her  so  much  alone,  but  she's  very  tiresome, 
and  the  time  is  as  good  as  wasted  ;  and  you  will  allow  I 
have  no  time  to  waste.  I  tell  you,  Peters,  it  is  as  neces 
sary  that  a  man  should  marry  his  intellectual  equal  as 
it  is  that  a  woman  should  ;  though  I  did  not  think  so 
once.  Tyranny,  petty  tyranny, — the  worst  sort, — always 
comes  from  inferior,  never  from  superior,  minds.  An 
equilibrium  .is  the  safest  position  for  the  matrimonial 
scales.  Let  a  fool  get  a.  claim  on  you,  and  your  life  is 
not  worth  a  button,  as  regards  comfort.  What  fools 
young  fellows  are,  to  be  so  crazy  to  get  married  !" 

"Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Peters,  who  having  out 
lived  all  desire  for  domestic  bliss,  lived  in  a  continued 
state  of  regret  that  he  had  not  married  young.  The 
oracle  who  had  "been  there"  was  unburdening  his 
mind,  and  Peters  was  not  unwilling  to  profit  by  its 
utterances. 

"Yes,"  continued  Sid,  "it  is  slavery  any  way  you 
can  fix  it.  When  a  man  marries  he  chains  himself  to 
one  spot,  one  set  of  surroundings,  and  one  constant 
companion.  The  idea  that  you  cannot  get  away  from 
her  all  your  life  long  is  exasperating.  What  a  lot  of 
lies  I'll  have  to  invent  about  to-night's  proceedings  ! 
And  if  I  should  chance  to  get  home  a  little  top-heavy, 


204  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

I  shall  have  to  submit  to  enough  reproaches  and  lec 
tures  and  abuse  to  drive  any  human  being  into  an  in 
sane  asylum.  A  married  man  must  be  a  devil  or  a 
milk-sop.  I  prefer  the  former." 

"  But  all  women  are  not  shrews,"  said  Mr.  Peters, 
rather  indignantly. 

"  Viola  is  as  mild-tempered  as  any  of  them,  I  guess," 
returned  Sid.  "  Give  them  their  own  way,  and  they 
are  all  sunshine  and  smiles ;  cross  their  will,  and  I'd 
rather  encounter  a  full-blown  hurricane.  I  used  to 
think  I  could  twist  Viola  around  my  finger,  she  was 
such  a  simple-minded,  innocent  creature.  Managing 
a  goose  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world.  It  can  see 
nothing, — not  even  when  you  are  acting  for  its  own  ad 
vantage, — and  distrusts  everything  its  little  mind  fails 
to  comprehend." 

Peters,  who  had  been  endeavoring  to  get  his  courage 
up  to  the  point  of  proposing  to  Mrs.  Wimple,  a  "gay 
and  festive"  widow,  comfortably  deferred  the  matter 
to  the  indefinite  future. 

Viola  cried  awhile  after  her  husband  had  gone,  then 
got  out  her  papier-mache  writing-desk,  and  detailed  to 
"  darling  Laura,"  her  Pittsburg  confidante,  a  transcript 
of  her  woes,  interspersed  with  brilliant  memoranda  of 
her  wedding  tour  and  an  inventory  of  her  trousseau. 
Then  she  got  out  her  finery,  and  amused  herself  with 
trying  it  on,  and  was  somewhat  comforted  with  the 
ecstatic  admiration  of  her  handmaid,  who  found  sit 
ting  in  Mrs.  Waltman's  boudoir,  extolling  her  finery, 
rather  more  entertaining  than  washing  dishes  in  the 
kitchen. 

"  Yer  was  a  purty  bride,  sure  !"  exclaimed  Bridget, 
as  her  mistress  in  a  trailing  comet-like  robe  of  white 
silk  paraded  the  room. 

"  Was?"  exclaimed  Viola.  "Am  not  I  as  good- 
looking  now  ?" 

"  Well,  no' in,  not  quite,  yer  know.  Nothirf  stays 
purty  long,  nowadays.  Yer  eyes  are  a  leetle  holler,  and 


DOMESTIC  BLISS. 


205 


yer jaws  a  trifle  slimmer  ;  but  that  don't  make  no  differ 
ence,  now  ye'r  married." 

"  It  does  make  difference  !"  cried  Viola,  examining 
her  countenance  in  the  mirror  with  a  horrified  expres 
sion  :  "Oh!  it's  true;  I'm  getting  old  and  ugly  !" 

"  Oh,  dear  no'm  !  Just  U>ok  at  them  purty  blue  eyes, 
and  yer  curly  hair,  and  that  figger  !  Yer  look  sweet 
and  purty  yet  in  yer  bridal  dress  and  wail." 

"I  wish  it  was  my  shroud,"  said  Viola,  gloomily. 
"  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  was  to  get  married  !  I  never  get  to 
go  any  place,  and  Sid  don't  care-for  me  any  more.  He 
would  be  glad  if  I  was  dead." 

She  took  off  her  finery  and  climbed  upon  the  bed, 
where  she  cried  herself  to  sleep.  Bridget  stuffed  the 
silk  and  satin  things  into  the  bureau  and  wardrobe, 
and  went  down  to  the  alley  gate  to  discuss  the  matter 
with  the  Bridget  next  door. 

Three  o'clock  found  Sid  on  his  way  home.  He  sat 
down  on  a  doorstep  to  rest,  and  also  to  collect  his 
thoughts  enough  to  remember  where  he  lived.  Was  it 
next  door  to  the  Crystal  Palace?  or  somewhere  on  B 
street?  Yes,  B  was  the  street, — but  what  number? 
In  this  maze  he  dropped  to  sleep.  When  he  awoke  some 
one  was  shaking  him. 

"  Come,  young  man,  get  up  !  You  must  go  with  me." 
It  was  a  policeman> 

He  took  hold  of  Sid,  who  muttered  that  it  was  "  devil 
ish  cool,"  but  allowed  himself  to  be  led  off.  Suddenly 
the  officer  stopped  under  the  full  glare  of  a  street  lamp. 

'What's  your  name?"  he  asked. 

'Name?  —  name?"  muttered  Sid,  "hanged  if  I 
ha\en't  forgotten." 

'It's  not  Waltman?" 

'But  it  is  though.  Sid  Waltman  :  that's  it.  First- 
rate  fellow.  Can'date  for  rep'sen'tive.  Give'im  your 
vote,  old  fel !  He's  your  man  !" 

The  policeman  "switched  off"  upon  another  track 
with  his  passenger,  and  conducted  him  home.  There 

18 


206  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

he  gave  him  his  pistol,  which  he  had  found  on  the  steps 
beside  him,  and  also  a  bit  of  advice.  By  this  time  the 
"can'date  for  rep'sen'tive"  had  "come  around" 
enough  to  comprehend  the  situation  and  make  the  po 
liceman  a  present  of  the  pistol,  with  an  intimation  that 
the  "  less  said  on  this  subject,  the  sooner  mended." 

This  was  eight  months  after  marriage.  Another  eight 
months,  and  we  will  lift  the  curtain  again. 

Sid  is  examining  the  grocer's  account,  with  his  feet 
on  the  mantle,  and  three  ugly  wrinkles  between  his 
brows.  Viola  is  chewing  tulu  in  the  corner. 

"  Viola,  we  must  have  a  little  more  economy  about 
this  house.  Our  grocery  bill  gets  worse  and  worse  every 
month,"  said  Sid,  as  he  closed  the  book. 

Viola  exclaimed  that  she  didn't  know  anything  about 
economy,  and  she  didn't  want  to  know  anything  about 
it.  It  was  hard  enough  getting  along  as  it  was,  without 
trying  to  economize. 

"Expenses  must  be  lessened  some  way,"  said  the 
gentleman  of  the  house.  "I  am  horribly  in  debt,  and 
see  no  chance  of  ever  getting  out,  if  things  go  on  much 
longer  at  this  rate.  You  have  nothing  to  do,  Viola :  you 
might  nurse  your  baby,  I  think.  Other  women,  who 
are  in  better  circumstances  than  we  are,  nurse  their 
children." 

" My  baby,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Viola,  in  high  in 
dignation.  (You  will  excuse  me  from  recording  all 
Viola  said  on  this  head.  I  ought  occasionally  to  leave 
a  little  to  your  imagination,  any  way.  At  least,  so  I 
have  been  instructed  by  responsible  critics.)  "  Sup 
pose  you  try  nursing  it  awhile  yourself,"  she  concluded. 
"  I've  had  trouble  enough  with  it,  I  think.  And  I  don't 
believe  you  have  ever  touched  the  child." 

"I  have  other  things  to  occupy  my  time,  without 
acting  as  dry  nurse,"  returned  Sid,  with  dignity. 
"  Kitty,  you  can  go  home.  You  don't  treat  the-  child 
very  well,  anyway." 

The  nurse  was  off  in  a  twinkling:    "was  goin'  any 


DOMESTIC  BLISS.  207 

way,  'cause  Mrs.  Waltman  slapped  her  jaws,  and  she 
warn't  used  to  being  cuffed  round  like  a  dog." 

"Shut  your  mouth,  you  good-for-nothing  minx!" 
was  Viola's  valedictory  to  her  departing  handmaid,  and 
then  she  turned  the  battery  upon  her  husband.  "I 
won't  nurse  the  baby — I  won't ! — and  have  my  clothes 
a  fright !  You  can  nurse  it  yourself,  Mr.  Sid,  you  are 
so  smart !  I'm  going  straight  over  to  pa's."  And  as 
soon  as  she  could  get  herself  ready,  she  went. 

Sid  called  the  cook  to  attend  to  the  baby  until  her 
mistress  returned.  "She'll  not  stay  long,  I  suppose ; 
and,  Johnson,  try  and  get  up  as  nice  a  dinner  as  you  can 
to-day.  I've  a  friend  coming  to  dine." 

"There's  nothin'  in  the  house  to  make  a  good 
dinner,"  returned  Johnson.  "Nothin'  but  the  flour 
and  steak." 

"  Well,  get  what  you  want  at  the  grocery." 

"Won't  credit  us  there  any  more.  Says  we  owes 
a  bill,  and  bin  a  owin'  it  for  several  months." 

"There,"  exclaimed  Sid,  tossing  her  a  bill,  "take 
that  and  do  the  best  you  can  with  it,"  and  Sid  hurried  off. 

The  cook's  "  best"  was  a  new  bow  and  sundry  adorn 
ments  for  a  coming  festival,  after  which  she  purchased 
a  little  celery  and  some  cranberries. 

At  the  usual  dinner-hour  Sid  ushered  his  friend  into 
the  sitting-room.  He  found  dinner  all  ready  and  in 
tolerable  order,  but  no  mistress,  and  the  baby  squalling. 
Cook  had  to  attend  to  the  baby,  and  Sid  and  his  friend 
were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  helping  themselves  as 
best  they  could. 

Sid  made  all  the  apologies  and  excuses  he  could  think 
of.  "Wife  called  off  suddenly,  parents  sick,"  etc. 

"  Why,  it  must  be  very  sudden,"  exclaimed  the  guest. 
"  I  saw  the  old  gentleman  at  the  Hall  this  morning." 

"Well,  it  was  only  the  old  lady,  then,  I  presume," 
returned  the  host. 

His  friend  expressed  his  regrets  feelingly — more,  per 
haps,  on  account  of  the  shabby  viands  than  the  absence 


2o8  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

of  his  friend's  pretty  wife  (whom  he  privately  voted  a 
"pert  chit,"  and  who,  in  her  domestic  confabs,  voted 
him  "  a  stick"). 

By  the  time  they  were  through,  the  cook  had  got  the 
baby  to  sleep,  and  Sid  conducted  his  guest  into  the 
sitting-room,  where  he  entertained  him  like  the  thor 
oughbred  gentleman  he  was  (at  rare  intervals).  The 
cradle  had  been  brought  into  the  sitting-room,  that 
the  father  .might  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon  his  sleeping 
offspring  while  the  cook  "  cleared  away  the  dishes." 

The  cigars  were  fine,  and  the  room  pretty  and  pleas- 
sant,  and  Sid,  with  a  new  sense  of  freedom  and  relief, 
talked  volubly  and  eloquently.  He  was  a  lover  of  the 
fine  arts,  especially  of  poesy  and  romance.  Politics  and 
business  had  been  dropped  at  the  street-door.  When 
they  were  in  the  height  of  a  discussion  in  regard  to  the 
different  schools  of  fictitious  literature, — the  sensational, 
the  sentimental,  the  erudite,  philosophical,  religious, 
etc., — the  young  scion  of  the  house  of  Waltman  reared 
itself  in  the  cradle  and  broke  forth  into  a  terrific  volley 
of  yells.  Sid  hastened  to  the  cradle,  patted  the  "  lovey 
dovey,"  and  endeavored  to  coax  it  to  be  a  "  sweet  little 
darling"  and. go  to  "  sleepey ;"  but  this  sort  of  suasion 
was  shorn  of  its  power,  and  the  yells  continued  with 
unabated  force. 

Then  Sid  swore,  and  cursed  the  "infernal  toad" 
until  he  was  in  as  great  a  passion  as  his  screaming  off 
spring.  He  searched  the  house  for  the  cook,  and  called 
loudly,  but  the  cook  it  is  likely  was  making  a  call  next 
door. 

The  visitor  got  out  his  watch,  and  extended  it  with 
what  he  supposed  to  be  an  extremely  fascinating  smile 
(the  damage  that  smile  was  wont  to  create  in  the  ranks 
of  the  fair  !),  but  it  failed  here.  The  terrible  infant 
screamed  on.  Then  he  got  out  his  cigar-case  and  his 
knife,  and  arranged  them  in  attractive  array;  but  the 
high-spirited  creature  scorned  the  whole  collection. 
Then  he  got  picture-books,  vases,  anything  he  could 


DOMESTIC  BLISS. 


209 


lay  his  hands  on.  Finally,  espying  an  oft-forbidden 
work-box  of  Viola's  within  reach  of  its  claws,  this  small 
descendant  of  the  Eden  couple  seized  upon  the  coveted 
treasure.  The  inherent  tendency  to  disobedience  was 
too  strong.  There  was  a  lull, — peace  reigned  once  more. 

"What  is  it? — boy  or  girl?"  inquired  the  bachelor 
friend,  eyeing  it  curiously. 

"A  darned  girl,  you  might  know,"  exclaimed  the 
unhappy  father,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  his  friend,  with  a  cynical  smile. 
"  Girls  don't  seem  to  be  at  a  premium  in  this  estab 
lishment.  Has  the  mild  temper  of  her  father,  as  well 
as  his  'black  eyes." 

"  She's  very  good,  usually,"  said  Sid,  apologetically. 
"But  I  dismissed  her  nurse  this  morning,  and  Viola 
wanted  to  make  some  calls  with  her  mother,  I  believe, 
and " 

"  I  thought  your  wife's  mother  was  sick  !"  exclaimed 
the  visitor. 

"Oh,  is  she?     I  didn't  know  that  !"  said  Sid. 

"Why,  you  told  me  so  yourself;  said  she  had  been 
called  off  on  that  account." 

"  Oh,  hang  it  !  I  forgot  that.  By  Jove',  I  believe 
I'm  losing  my  mind  !" 

"  This  electioneering  business  has  upset  you  a  little," 
suggested  his  friend. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  returned  Sid,  gloomily. 

"Now  that  that  juvenile  horn  is  silenced,  suppose 
we  go,"  was  his  friend's  next  suggestion. 

Sid  had  to  hunt  up  the  cook  first,  and  then  they 
made  their  exit  just  as  it  was  tuning  up  for  another 
overture. 

Upon  his  return  at  night  Sid  was  somewhat  alarmed 
to  find  the  house  entirely  deserted.  No  Viola,  no  baby, 
no  cook  !  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  Johnson 
made  her  appearance.  She  had  been  to  the  grocery, 
and  the  baby  had  been  sent  for  directly  after  they  left. 
Mrs.  Waltman  was  "round  to  her  mother's,  very  ill." 
18* 


2io  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

Sid  read  his  paper  until  supper  was  ready,  then 
smoked  a  cigar,  after  which  he  walked  leisurely  around 
to  his  father-in-law's,  expecting  to  find  Viola  pouting 
and  the  old  folks  in  a  fit  of  the  sulks.  He  walked  in 
without  ringing,  and  was  surprised  to  find  'no  one  in 
the  sitting-room.  Hearing  a  faint  hum  of  voices  in  the 
adjoining  room,  he  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered. 
Some  one  was  stretched  upon  the  bed,  with  a  counte 
nance  swathed  in  white  cloths. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  inquired  of  a  servant,  who  replied 
that  it  was  "  Mrs.  Waltman." 

The  family  were  crowded  around  the  bed.  There 
were  two  physicians.  Sid  took  one  of  them  aside,  and 
anxiously  inquired  what  was  the  matter.  The  physician 
said  "  catalepsis  loquax;"  at  which  Sid  stared,  and 
looked  helpless. 

"  Is  there  any  danger?"  he  inquired. 

The  physician  smiled  slightly.  "  Not  immediate," 
he  returned.  "It  is  constitutional.  Is  this  the  first 
attack  she  has  had  since  her  marriage?  She  has  had 
them  frequently  before,  I  believe." 

"  I  did  not  know,  I  had  not  heard,"  faltered  Sid. 

"If  they  would  let  her  alone  and  not  make  such  a 
confounded  to-do  over  her,  she  would  recover  in  half 
the  time,  and  there  'might  be  some  prospect  of  curing 
her.  That  old  wiseacre  over  there  contends  that  it  is 
epilepsy,  and,  as  he  is  the  family  physician,  of  course 
must  have  his  way.  He  will  drive  her  into  some  real 
disease  with  his  soporifics  and  strong  medicines.  The 
less  medicine  she  has,  and  the  less  attention  too,  the 
better." 

Sid  edged  his  way  through  the  swarm  of  Biddies 
and  Bridgets  to  the  other  physician,  and  inquired  his 
opinion  of  the  case. 

"A  dangerous  case  of  epilepsy,"  he  returned,  sol 
emnly. 

"  Is  she  in  danger?" 

"  In  very  great  danger." 


DOMESTIC  BLISS.  211 

"  How,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  are  we  to  know 
what  to  believe?  The  other  physician " 

"Oh,  I  know! — that  fool,  Pillsbury,  says  it's  com 
mon  hysteria,  but  he  knows  nothing  about  it.  /gradu 
ated  at  the  University  at  Ann  Arbor,  and  I  should 
think  ought  to  know  epilepsy  when  I  see  it." 

The  father  looked  stern  when  he  perceived  his  son- 
in-law,  the  mother  furious.  In  the  irate  presence  of 
these  two  elderly  people,  who  looked  upon  him  as.  little 
better  than  a  murderer,  Sid,  in  spite  of  conscious  in 
nocence,  felt  like  a  condemned  criminal.  "Hanged 
if  I  don't  wish  I  was  out  of  this  !"  was  his  mental 
reflection.  His  natural  imperturbability  of  countenance 
was  of  great  advantage  here.  Apparently  without  per 
ceiving  her  relatives,  he  sat  down  by  Viola  and  took 
hold  of  her  wrist.  The  pulse  seemed  to  be  good. 

"Viola  !"  She  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard  him. 
Then  Sid  put  his  mouth  close  to  her  ear,  and  whispered, 
"  Come,  Viola  !  none  of  that !  The  doctor  is  laughing 
at  you.  He  knows  very  well  there's  nothing  the  matter 
with  you.  He  only  wants  to  run  up  a  bill  on  your 
father." 

Not  a  muscle  moved. 

"  Viola,  did  you  know  we  Vere  invited  to  tea  at 
Uncle  Beckworth's  to-morrow  evening?  And  if  you 
are  sick  we  can't  go.  Come,  get  up  !" 

There  was  a  slight  quiver  of  the  eyelids,  which  was 
about  as  much  of  the  countenance  as  was  visible. 

"  I  brought  you  home  a  handsome  new  '  Roman  tie' 
for  to-morrow  evening ;  and  Ophelia,  Kingsley,  and 
several  others  are  to  be  there.  I  tell  you,  Viola,  you 
will  miss  a  great  deal  !" 

Viola  opened  her  eyes,  and  asked  faintly  to  be  placed 
higher  on  the  pillow.  Sid  moved  her  carefully.  Then 
she  asked  for  water.  He  sent  a  servant  for  a  glass  of 
water,  and  gave  it  to  her.  She  only  drank  a  little,  Sid 
holding  up  her  head.  "  Carter  dined  with  me  to-day," 
he  continued  in  the  same  low  tone,  ".and  the  baby 


212  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

squalled  so  we  gave  her  your  porcelain  work-box,  and 
she  broke  it." 

Viola  reached  out  slyly,  and  gave  Sid's  moustache  a 
vicious  jerk.  "  You  had  no  business  to  give  it  to  her," 
she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Make  haste  and  get  up,  Viola.  I  have  to  leave 
here  directly.  Your  father  and  mother  look  as  if  they 
wanted  to  kick  me  out  of  the  house,  now." 

"Make  them  all  go  out  of  here,"  she  said,  in  a 
louder  tone. 

The  room  was  soon  cleared,  the  bandages  remold, 
the  maid  called,  and  Viola  dressed  and  brought  into 
the  sitting-room.  The  learned  physicians  had  taken 
their  departure,  and  when  they  called  upon  the  follow 
ing  morning,  their  patient  had  returned  to  her  home, 
and  was  making  preparations  for  going  out  that  even 
ing.  But  another  nurse  had  to  be  procured,  the  new 
"Roman  tie"  bought,  and  the  porcelain  work-box 
mended. 

I  feel  wicked  and  vicious  to-night,  John.  I  have  a 
tremendous  inclination  to  tease  and  tyrannize  over  some 
body.  I  should  like  to  quarrel  with  you,  only  you  have 
expressed  enthusiastic  admiration  for  everything  I  have 
said  in  this  chapter,  and  there  is  nothing  else  to  quarrel 
about. 

You  are  too  complacent  and  too  good-humored  to 
night  to  be  amusing ;  and  as  I  never  could  see  any 
pleasure  in  entertaining  other  people  unless  I  might 
entertain  myself  a  little  at  the  same  time,  you  can  go, 
John. 


THE  "MAGIC  SELL."  213 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE    "  MAGIC    BELL." 

THE  Beckworth  dining-room  was  a  noble  apartment. 
The  table  for  twelve,  set  in  the  middle  of  it,  looked 
diminutive.  The  paneling  was  of  oak,  and  a  few  hunting 
scenes,  in  massive  gilt  frames,  hung  at  regular  intervals. 
The  table  bristled  with  cut-glass  and  silver,  and  the 
chandelier  above  it  was  wreathed  with  fragrant  flowers. 

There  was  one  chair  vacant :  that  was  Kingsley's. 
He  seldom  went  abroad  now.  He  had  become  morose 
and  ungallant.  It  was  generally  supposed  that  Adele's 
marriage  had  something  to  do  with  his  unsocial  humor. 

Waiters  glided  about  with  stealthy  step  ;  the  guests 
satiated  their  appetites  and  wete  happy.  Who  could 
possibly  find  a  place  for  sadness  or  prayer  amid  so 
much  luxury  and  gayety  ?  And  yet  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  as  she  sat  at  the  head  of  he'r  sumptuous  table, 
opposite  her  accomplished  husband,  had  never  before 
felt  her  mind  driven  into  a  deeper  morass  of  clinging 
miserable  thoughts  ;  and  while  the  others  chattered  and 
were  gay  she  lifted  from  a  heavy  heart  the  despairing 
petition,  "  God,  help  me  to  conquer  myself,  or  else 
take  me  out  of  this  miserable  world  !" 

And  is  this  lady — so  reserved,  so  stately — the  same 
whom  we  found,  at  the  beginning  of  our  story,  scrawl 
ing  in  the  ashes  and  complaining  idly  of  her  dull  life? 
and  later,  do.ncing  and  flirting  with"  the  gentlemen,  and 
chatting  and  laughing  gayly  with  all  ?  Bodily,  the  same ; 
spiritually,  an  altogether  different  person.  Those  who 
had  formerly  borne  themselves  familiarly  and  patroniz 
ingly  toward  her  now  stood  aloof  in  awe ;  and  many 
who  had  disregarded  and  sneared  at  her  now  courted 
her  favor.  Oh,  the  power  of  money  and  fine  clothes  ! 


2I4  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"Come,  Mr.  Politician,"  said  Mr.  Beckworth,  ad 
dressing  his  nephew,  who  sat  silent  and  distrait,  "we 
didn't  invite  you  here  to  have  you  studying  up  speeches 
for  the  next  caucus." 

"  The  political  muse,"  returned  Mr.Waltman,  slowly, 
as  if  gradually  coming  out  of  his  reverie,  "  is  a  tyran 
nical  mistress.  To  secure  her  favor  one  must  give  her 
his  whole  mind.  To  be  a  successful  politician,  one 
must  unfit  himself  to  be  anything  else." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Viola.  "Since  Sid  has  be 
come  a  politician  he  is  not  much  account  for  anything 
else.  He  is  hardly  ever  at  home,  and  when  he  is  at 
home,  can  think  of  nothing  to  say." 

"  He  must  be  at  a  loss  for  something  to  be  interested 
in,"  laughed  Ripley,  "to  care  so  much  about  that 
heavy  affair  going  on  at  Washington." 

"I  do  not  think  affairs  of  state  and  the  well-being 
of  the  nation  are  likely  to  keep  Sid  '  awake  'o  nights,'  ' 
said  Mr.  Beckworth. 

"  None  of  us  concern  ourselves  as  much  on  that 
head  as  we  should,"  said  Dr.  Hughes.  He  had  shaken 
hands  with  Sid,  and  that  little  midnight  skirmish,  which 
seemed  to  have  settled  all  ill-feeling  between  them,  was 
forgotten'. 

"You  gentlemen  boast  that  this  is  a  free  govern 
ment,  conducted  by  the  people,"  said  Mrs.  Beckworth. 
"  You  read  the  papers  of  your  party,  cast  your  votes 
according  to  their  representations,  and  call  that  liberty 
of  thought.  Only  those  who  seek  notoriety,  or  large 
wages  for  small  service,  take  the  trouble  to  inform  them 
selves  in  regard  to  the  true  state  of  our  political  affairs." 

"A  man  who  of  his  own  free  will  wallows  in  the 
'  muddy  pool  of  polities'  must  either  be  in  pursuit  of 
a  '  fat  office, ''or  crazy,"  said  Mr.  Beckworth. 

"  How  can  you  expect  other  than  corrupt  politics, 
if  you  leave  the  conducting  of  the  government  to  cor 
rupt  men?"  returned  bis  wife. 

"  Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  you,  Mrs.  Beckworth," 


THE  "MAGIC  BELL." 


215 


said  Sid,  "there  are  honest  and  upright  men  engaged 
in  politics,  though  the  mere  name,  it  seems,  is  enough 
to  blacken  one's  character." 

"  Mrs.  Beckworth  takes  a  general  view  of  the  sub 
ject,"  returned  Mrs.  Beckworth's  husband.  "  Women, 
you  must  know,  my  dear  nephew,  seldom  trouble 
themselves  to  look  beneath  the  surface  of  things  to  see 
whether  all  is  as  fair  or  as  foul  as  it  appears.  With 
one  sweeping  glance  they  sum  up  your  virtues  and  your 
deficiencies,  and  are  ready  to  uphold  or  denounce, 
according  to  circumstances,  with  all  their  strength. 
Now,  my  pretty  Hypatia,  let  us  see  how  deep  you  have 
skimmed.  How  would  you  go  about  cleansing  this 
'muddy  pool  of  politics  '?" 

Some  of  the  old  fire  flashed  into  Adele's  eye  as  she 
replied,  "  I  would  have  the  people  make  themselves  a 
power,  instead  of  a  tool.  I  would  have  them  inform 
themselves  thoroughly  upon  both  sides  of  a  question, 
instead  of  one  ;  and  then  cast  the  whole  force  of 
their  influence,  instead  of  a  simple  vote,  upon  the  right 
side  ;  not  upon  the  side  which  would  bring  most  benefit 
to  themselves.  I  would  have  the  interests  of  the  weak 
looked  into,  as  well  as  those  of  the  strong.  And  one 
portion  of  this  free  country  should  not  be  elevated 
above  another,  nor  its  welfare  or  rights  considered 
more  attentively." 

"In  short,  you  would  have  human  nature  remod 
eled,"  added  Mr.  Beckworth,  looking  over  at  his  wife 
with  a  smile. 

"You  have  as  free  an  opportunity  in  this  matter  as 
anyone,  Adele,"  said  Ophelia.  "The  press  is  open 
to  you,  provided  your  ideas  are  clear,  and  your  diction 
free  from  outrages  upon  the  English  language,  though 
the  latter  point  is  not  much  attended  to." 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  that  prevents  my  entering 
the  political  arena,"  returned  Adele:  "that  is,  my 
political  education  has  been  neglected.  Would  that  I 
had  lived  in  the  days  of  Hypatia  or  Madame  Roland  !" 


2l6  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"You  live  in  the  days  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Cady 
Stanton  and  Anna  Dickinson,"  said  Ripley;  "won't 
that  answer  as  well?" 

"  If  those  ladies  could  only  have  the  good  fortune  to 
get  stoned  to  death  or  beheaded,  it  would  accomplish 
more  toward  their  immortalization  than  any  amount 
of  scribbling  or  proclaiming  of  their  principles  from 
the  rostrum,"  remarked  Mr.  Beckworth. 

"Tut!"  cried  Viola,  slyly  appropriating  an  orange 
which  her  neighbor  had  just  peeled,  "I  see  no  use  in 
politics.  We  pay  men  for  attending  to  these  things; 
why  can't  they  attend  to  them  without  bothering  other 
people  about  it?  Why  can't  they  have  a  school  for 
politics,  so  that  men  might  go  there  and  complete  their 
education  and  be  done  with  it?" 

"Come,"  exclaimed  Sid,  rising,  "let's  adjourn  to 
the  parlor,  where  Miss  Ophelia  will  harmonize  these  dis 
cords  and  transport  us  into  sublimer  realms  upon  the 
downy  pinions  of  the  only  angel  of  this  earth, — music." 

"  And  we'll  look  at  that  new  lot  of  chromos  our 
amiable  host  was  telling  us  of,  and  grow  sublime  under 
the  combined  influences  of  their  diversified  beauties," 
said  Tom,  who,  having  secured  a  paying  position  in 
some  liquor  house  in  the  city,  was  elate  and  social, 
and  distributed  his  flowery  sentences  among  the  guests 
with  reckless  pfofusion. 

"Talk  not  to  me  of  the  elevating  influences  of 
beauty,"  exclaimed  the  host.  "  Haven't  I  seen  a  gar 
dener,  embowered  in  such  wildernesses  of  balm  and 
bloom  as  would  throw  a  poet  into  a  delirium  of  ecstasy, 
bestowing  his  tenderest  care  upon  his  celery  and  onions, 
because  they  brought  him  more  profit  ?  Moreover,  are 
we  fortunate  husbands  of  pretty  women  in  any  way  su 
perior  to  our  brethren  who  have  ugly  wives?" 

"The  latter  argument  is  conclusive,"  remarked  Sid. 
And  they  all  defiled  out  of  the  dining-room,  down  the 
long  hall  and  into  the  parlors,  where  they  disposed  of 
themselves  at  random. 


THE   "MAGIC  BELL."  217 

Ophelia  took  her  place  at  the  piano  ;  and  the  com 
pany,  knowing  that  the  favor  would  be  brief, — for  it 
was  Ophelia's  happy  way  to  inflict  upon  her  audience 
no  more  than  three  pieces  at  one  time, — was  quiet  and 
attentive. 

Have  you,  my  attentive  audience,  ever  heard  that 
enchanting  reverie,  dedicated  by  Maurice  Strakosch 
to  her  imperial  highness  "  Olga"  (Grand  Duchess  of 
Russia  and  .Crown  Princess  of  Wurtemburg),  and  en 
titled  "  The  Magic  Bell"  ?  If  you  have  not,  I  pray  you 
hear  it  as  soon  as  practicable,  and  only  from  a  skilled 
performer,  and  thereby  elect  me  the  recipient  of  your 
undying  gratitude,  for  having  made  the  suggestion. 

Ophelia  never  played  this  heavenly  melody  without 
a  sympathetic  vibration  of  her  heart-strings ;  and  now, 
as  her  fingers  thrided  the  intricate  mazes,  her  counte 
nance  assumed  a  tender  and  sorrowful  expression.  She 
was  conscious  that  some  one  entered  and  stood  by  her, 
leaning  upon  the  piano,  entranced.  Some  of  the  move 
ments  she  repeated  again  and  again.  She  had  a  strange 
feeling  that  she  was  speaking  to  a  kindred  soul.  At 
last  she  looked  up ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  my  wise  friend 
can  guess  whose  eyes  she  met, — eyes  that  had  haunted 
her  dreams  with  myriads  of  inscrutable  expressions,  but 
none  like  that  which  now  looked  from  out  their  lam 
bent  depths. 

What  a  mysterious,  incomprehensible  being  was 
this  !  He  never  looked  at  or  spoke  to  her  without  ex 
citing  within  her  a  sort  of  wonder, — so  different  from 
all  others  did  he  appear  to  her.  They  had  looked  at 
each  other  but  one  forgetful  moment,  wistful  and  won 
dering,  when  a  chorus  of  inquiries  of  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  his  detention  greeted  him  from  all  sides, 
and  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  manufacture  of 
clumsy  excuses.  Cards  were  produced.  Ripley  chose 
Ophelia  for  his  partner  in  a  game  of  euchre,  and  man 
aged  to  monopolize  her  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 
Ophelia  made  no  effort  to  prevent  it ;  she  had  no  care 
K  19 


2l8  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

for  anything.  When  Kingsley  had  turned  coldly  and 
discourteously  away  from  her,  after  a  blunt  and  un 
gracious  greeting,  her  power  of  enjoyment  was  gone. 
She  knew  that  she  was  judged  wrongfully.  An  ex 
planation  was  an  utter  impossibility ;  and  there  was 
nothing  left  her  but  to  endure  his  undeserved  scorn  as 
best  she  might.  Nor  was  it  at  all  probable  that  there 
would  ever  be  any  better  understanding  between  them. 
But  for  all  that,  she  could  not  help  loving  him. 

It  is  a  mystery  how  some  men  who  are  not  good  at 
all,  who  are  even  positively  bad,  so  often  manage  to  win 
the  hearts  of  pious,  good  women, — women  who  in 
purity  and  simple  integrity  of  heart  are  so  much  their 
superiors.  I  can  suggest  no  solution  to  the  mystery, 
unless  it  is  because  of  woman's  superior  power  of  sym 
pathy,  by  which  her  affections  are  drawn  toward  the 
unfortunate,  the  unhappy  and  the  erring,  rather  than 
the  upright  and  strong,  who  have  no  need  of  their 
compassion.  And  yet  there  must  be  good,  real  or  im 
agined,  in  a  character  which  so  attracts.  Purity  can 
feel  no  congeniality  with  impurity ;  and  real  goodness 
can  have  no  desire  for  association  with  vice. 

Perhaps  Ophelia  misjudged  Kingsley.  His  manner 
was  not  a  smoothly  polite  one  like  Sid's.  There  were 
forces  within  him  which  had  grown  unfettered  to  their 
fullest  stature,  that  would  not  always  "down"  at  his 
bidding.  And  what  seemed  to  her  brusqueness  might 
have  been  simply  the  lack  of  self-control. 

The  party  broke  up  early.  Sid  was  the  first  to  go, 
though  Viola  made  a  violent  outcry  against  it.  He 
had  an  engagement  which  it  was  imperatively  neces 
sary  for  him  to  meet. 

The  engagement  was  a  meeting  of  politicians  of  the 
faction  which  had  the  honor  of  claiming  Mr.  Waltman 
for  a  partisan.  He  had  set  his  heart  upon  political 
power, — or,  rather,  self-aggrandizement  through  that 
means, — and  he  gave  up  his  whole  mind  to  that  pur 
pose  and  aim.  He  never  missed  an  important  meeting  ; 


THE  "MAGIC  BELL." 


219 


always  kept  himself  prominent  and  always  in  a  favor 
able  light ;  shook  off  indiscreet  friends  who  were  apt 
to  retard  his  progress  by  their  blunders ;  secured,  by 
tact  and  ingenuity,  the  good-will  of  all  who  were  likely 
to  further  his  interests ;  designedly  created  enemies  of 
those  whose  enmity  was  a  recommendation — the  notori 
ously  unprincipled  ;  and  so  masked  his  crooked  and 
sinuous  policy  that  it  presented  a  fair  show  to  the  public. 

Sidney  Waltman  held  principles  as  coin,  to  be  bar 
tered  for  whatever  advancement  they  would  procure  him. 
He  had  no  convictions,  or  conscientious  scruples,  to 
embarrass  or  retard  his  progress;  and  yet  so  subtle  and 
wary  were  his  movements  that  his  enemies  could  point 
to  no  positive  wrong  he  had  ever  committed.  He  was 
a  close  student,  not  only  of  contemporaneous  persons 
and  events,  but  of  the  past ;  and,  from  the  history  of 
the  political  career  of  great  statesmen,  gleaned  his 
lessons  of  success  and  failure. 

Scrupulously  attentive  to  his  duties, — none  too  small 
for  serious  consideration, — deferential  iri  his  deport 
ment  toward  his  elders  and  superiors,  courteous  toward 
his  equals  and  considerate  toward  his  inferiors,  he 
gained  rapidly  in  the  esteem  of  all,  lost  in  none.  He 
won  respect,  but  not  love.  Though  his  party  were 
proud  of  him,  and  had  confidence  in  his  capability  and 
steadfastness,  few  actually  liked  him. 

In  one  thing  Sid  differed  from  the  common  politi 
cian  :  he  never  varied  his  allegiance.  (  This  generally 
passed  for  profound  and  earnest  conviction,  but  it  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  profound  policy.  Let  his 
party,  from  any  ill  chance,  go  to  ruin,  and  see  this  con 
stant  partisan  step  aside  in  time  to  save  himself  from 
the  wreck  ! 

But  no  such  mischance  was  likely  to  happen.  The 
foundation  had  been  carefully  constructed  of  able  and 
substantial  material, — upright  and  reliable  men  who 
made  no  display,  but  upheld  the  structure  nevertheless. 

Sid's  term  in  the  legislature  would  soon  expire,  and 


220  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

his  next  aim  was  Congress.  But  there  was  a  Mordecai 
in  his  way;  an  aggravating  person,  who  not  only  "bowed 
not  nor  did  him  homage,"  but  steadily  kept  pace  with 
him  on  his  upward  march,  and  apparently  without  the 
same  effort. 

"  I  must  get  rid  of  him,"  was  Sid's  determination. 
And  he  set  his  crafty  mind  at  work  to  undermine  him 
and  bring  him  to  ruin. 

Is -it  not  strange  that  this  man  could  not  rest  con 
tent  with  his  own  honors  and  high  position,  but  must 
needs  go  to  envying  his  associates  ?  He  wanted  to 
stand  alone,  without  a  rival  to  impede  his  way  or 
detract  from  his  share  of  public  attention. 

But  Mordecai  was  on  the  alert,  and  by  a  skillful 
manoeuvre  precipitated  his  antagonist  into  the  veritable 
pit  he  had  prepared  for  him.  And  thus  the  cap  which 
Sid  had  prepared  for  his  enemy's  head  was  fitted  upon 
his  own. 

When  I  lard  down  the  "  keel"  of  this  story,  I  marked 
off  one  chapter  for  the  ventilation  of  my  political  opin 
ions,  in  which  I  was  to  astound  you,  John,  with  the 
clearest  and  profoundest  exposition  of  the  "political 
situation"  that  it  has  ever  been  your  good  fortune  to 
meet.  For  this  purpose  I  "crammed"  diligently: 
political  economy,  proceedings  of  Congress,  presi 
dential  messages,  and  no  end  of  political  rag-tag  and 
rubbish.  And  now  that  I  have  reached  the  designated 
chapter,  don't  you  think  I  have  forgotten  every  bit  of 
it?  I  understood  it  all  very  well  when  I  read  it,  I 
declare ;  but  when  it  came  to  putting  this  and  that 
together,  and  deducting  wholly  new  and  original  con 
clusions,  I  found  myself  utterly  at  a  loss. 

However,  it  may  be  that  politics  lie  a  little  farther 
along  in  my  career,  and  that  some  day  I  may  be  want 
ing  your  vote  for  something  or  other. 


WHO   CONQUERS?  221 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

WHO    CONQUERS? 

A  BLEAK  evening.  The  city  of  L looked  cold 

and  deserted.  Now  and  then  the  quick  step  of  some 
belated  tradesman,  hurrying  home  to  a  bright  fire  and 
warm  supper,  crackled  along  the  pavement.  There  were 
no  homeless  unfortunates  to  be  wandering  abroad  upon 

such  an  evening,  for  the  good  city  of  L provides 

for  its  poor. 

The  snow  fell  in  scant  flakes;  the  wind  whistled 
drearily  around  the  street  corners ;  and  here  and  there 
the  lights  from  comfortable  homes  streamed  across  the 
pavement.  A  disconsolate  figure  strolled  alone,  up 
one  street  and  down  another ;  glancing  idly  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left, — as  if  no  other  sources  of  amuse 
ment  remained  to  a  surfeited  mind,  which  would  fain 
seek  congeniality  in  the  dreary,  the  desolate,  and  the 
sad.  He  looked  up  at  the  closed  houses,  whose  light 
and  warmth  were' imprisoned  within  ;  at  the  sickly, 
feeble  lamps,  and  the  few  straggling  pines  in  contracted 
front  yards ;  at  the  grim  trees,  posted  here  and  there, 
clapping  their  naked  limbs,  and  sighing  in  the  bitter 
wind  ;  and  the  bleak  sky,  with  its  dim  lights ; — as  if 
he  felt  a  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  these  gloomy 
objects. 

For  a  moment  he  paused  in  the  gaudy  stream  of 
light  pouring  from  the  window  of  a  sleek  and  prosper 
ous-looking  mansion.  A  woman  passed  the  window, 
her  shadow  crossing  him, — fair,  gentle,  and  elegantly 
dressed,  —  a  woman  of  opulent  and  luxurious  life. 
With  a  satirical  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  as  if  he  jeered 
at  his  own  thoughts,  he  moved  on :  a  sudden  burst  of 
sweet  sounds  streamed  after.  He  paused  irresolute. 
19* 


222  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Ah,  the  haunting,  reproachful  mournfulness  of  that 
"Magic  Bell!" 

"It  is  not  worth  while  to  trouble  myself  with 
making  resolutions  where  she  is  concerned,"  he  mut 
tered,  and,  turning  hastily,  he  mounted  the  steps  and 
rang  the  bell. 

He  was  ushered  into  a  luxurious  room,  and  the  lady 
rose  from  the  piano  to  meet  him.  "  Do  not  be  inter 
rupted,"  he  said,  coldly;  "I  only  came  in  a  moment 
to  hear  the  music." 

She  greeted  him  kindly,  though  her  face  flushed 
slightly  at  his  abrupt  speech.  Then  she  returned  to 
her  music.  He  let  her  play  on  without  interruption 
or  comment.  As  for  himself,  he  sat  coldly  distant, 
listening  greedily,  but  unsatisfied.  When  she  con 
cluded  he  arose,  thanked  her,  and  was  gone.  She 
looked  after  him  wistfully.  Some  of  the  shadow  from 
his  dark  face  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  hers.  She 
resumed  her  playing,  but  her  fingers  moved  mechani 
cally,  and  it  was  evident  that  her  mind  was  not  in  it. 

Upon  the  following  evening,  when  she  saw  that  same 
dark  countenance  at  the  opera,  it  was  full  of  life  and 
enjoyment,  and  the  sombre  eyes  flashed  bright  glances 
into  the  blue  ones  of  the  fair-haired  Louise  Benton, 
and  the  episode  of  "The  Magic  Bell"  seemed  all  a 
dream.  Frequently  during  the  evening  Ophelia  glanced 
toward  them,  but  he  seemed  unaware  of  her  presence. 

Another  evening,  some  two  or  three  weeks  after,  he 
called.  His  manner  was  unusually  social  and  friendly. 
He  had  met  with  some  unexpected  good  fortune,  per 
haps  ;  and  Ophelia  thought  of  Louise  Benton  with  a 
sigh.  He  recounted  many  humorous  adventures  and 
occurrences,  over  which  they  laughed  gayly. 

A  spirit  of  mirthfulness — more  reckless  and  wanton 
than  she  had  ever  seen  him  display — possessed  him. 
He  grew  more  and  more  familiar ;  did  everything  that 
was  admissible,  to  tease  and  arouse  her  indignation, 
and  seemed  absolutely  to  revel  in  her  vexation  and 


WHO   CONQUERS?  223 

discomfiture.  He  pulled  at  her  curls  to  see  if  they 
were  false ;  and  while  Ophelia  stood  up  beneath  the 
full  glare  of  the  chandelier,  to  let  him  see  that  they 
were  all  her  own,  he  suddenly  took  hold  of  her,  and, 
whistling  softly  a  merry  waltz,  whirled  her  twice  around 
the  room. 

"  Positively,"  she  commenced  ;  but  before  she  could 
complete  her  sentence  she  was  again  dragged  around 
the  room.  Then-Ophelia,  fairly  out  of  breath,  vowed 
she  would  .call  mamma ;  at  which  he  promised,  under 
conditions  that  she  was  not  to  scold  him,  to  let  her  go. 
Standing  with  his  hand  upon  her  waist,  waiting  for  her 
promise,  Kingsley  suddenly  became  aware  of  some  un 
usual  expression  in  his  companion's  face.  It  was  not 
anger,  nor  fear,  nor  dislike. 

"  How  you  are  blushing  !"  he  exclaimed,  amazedly. 
"What  is  the  matter?  You  are  not  angry ?  No, — it 
is  shame  /" 

"  You  had  better  go  home,"  she  said,  gravely.  "  It 
is  ten  o'clock,  and  mamma  don't  like  young  gentlemen 
to  stay  later." 

He  immediately,  and  stiffly,  took  his  departure.  He 
did  not  look  vexed  nor  discomfited,  only  stiff. 

"Was  I  right  or  wrong?"  questioned  Ophelia,  of 
herself  when  he  had  gone.  "Am  I  too  severe,  too 
prudish?"  (A  question  frequently  debated,  no  doubt, 
under  similar  circumstances.) 

She  studied  it  over  a  full  minute.  "It  was  an  em 
brace  ;  nothing  more  nor  less, ' '  she  exclaimed,  at  length ; 
"  and  I  was  right'." 

(That  is  right,  Ophelia.  Put  it  in  plain  terms,  and 
your  question  will  answer  itself.) 

And  yet  Ophelia  felt  oppressed  and  vaguely  unhappy. 
What  was  the  cause  of  this  singular  change  in  his 
manner?  Had  he  no  longer  respect  for  her?  She 
could  not  blame  him  for  judging  her,  as  she  had  ap 
peared,  indelicate,  light-minded,  and  inconstant.  "  I 
ought  to  be  glad,  if  he  has  won  the  love  of  so  noble  a 


224  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

girl  as  Louise,"  she  thought ;  "but  I  am  not."  Then 
she  frowned,  and  called  herself  a  fool !  an  idiot !  Why, 
of  all  her  lovers,  must  she  love  this  one  ?  Against  her 
will, — ay,  against  her  prayers ;  for  had  she  not  wearied 
heaven  with  petitions  for  a  release  from  this  singular 
infatuation  ? — but  all  in  vain. 

"  I  know  I  have  a  mind  superior  to  most  girls,"  she 
mused.  "I  know  that  I  have  a  power  of  attraction 
not  granted  to  all ;  but  what  do  I  care  for  such  power  ? 
The  only  power  I  crave  is  denied  me :  the  power  to 
make  good.  Why  is  it,  I  should  like  to  know,  that  I 
am  possessed  of  such  intense  desire  for  the  good  of 
human  souls,  without  the  slightest  power  to  influence 
them  toward  it?  Who  is  any  the  better  that  I  live? 
Not  one  soul !" 

Kingsley,  at  that  moment,  was  hard  at  work  upon  a 
paragraph  for  the  daily  paper  of  which  he  was  now  a 
local  editor.  Pausing  to  reflect  upon  a  closing  sen 
tence,  his  wandering  gaze  fell  upon  an  object  which 
entirely  diverted  his  mind  from  the  matter  in  hand. 
A  rippling  thread  of  gold  shimmered  down  his  coat- 
sleeve.  He  gathered  it  up  between  his  thumb  and 
finger,  and  held  it  toward  the  light. 

Do  not  laugh,  John.  Is  there  not  one  single  yellow 
hair  of  Lucrezia  Borgia's  upon  exhibition  to  the  world, 
in  the  Ambrosian  Library  at  Milan?  Was  there  not  a 
war  about  a  rose?  and  another  about  a  key?  And 
surely  our  lover  may  be  excused  if  he  felt  an  imbecile 
desire  to  kiss  and  to  fondle  this  infinitesimal  portion  of 
his  mistress.  When  he  had  performed  a  few  ecstatics 
over  it,  he  wound  the  slender  thread  about  his  finger. 
But  no  sooner  had  he  loosened  his  hold  than  it  hur 
riedly  unwound  itself  and  flew  back  into  its  own  original 
waves. 

"Stubborn!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  smile;  "wants 
its  own  way  !  But  we  will  see  who  conquers." 

He  bound  it  upon  his  finger  again,  and,  fastening 
the  end  securely,  resumed  his  writing.  As  he  concluded 


WHO   CONQUERS?  225 

his  manuscript,  a  mysterious  individual  stood  at  his 
elbow,  ready  to  spirit  it  away.  This,  I  presume,  was 
the  printer's  devil. 

When  he  had  vanished,  silently  and  solemnly,  as 
befitted  so  mysterious  a  personage,  Kingsley  resumed 
his  pen,  and  wrote  until  far  into  the  night.  Apparently 
he  had  forgotten  the  little  ring  of  gold  upon  his  finger. 
But,  no  ;  before  retiring,  he  looked  at  it  long  and  earn 
estly,  as  if  he  thought  there  might  be  some  hidden 
expression  contained  in  it ;  and  the  first  thing  upon 
the  following  morning  he  unwound  it,  and  held  up  a 
fairy  ringlet,  describing  the  circuit  of  his  finger. 

"And  so,"  he  reflected,  "I  will  conquer  her  stub 
born  spirit  and  subdue  her  will  to  mine,  until  she  shall 
know  no  pleasure,  no  desire,  no  law  outside  of  my  will. 
She  must  live,  move,  and  have  her  being  only  in  my 
love.  I  will  so  encompass,  surround,  and  overwhelm 
her  with  the  thought  of  me,  that  she  shall  find  no  rest 
beyond  the  pale  of  my  love.  She  inhabits  my  dreams, 
she  encroaches  upon  my  business  hours,  she  consumes 
my  leisure  in  reveries,  and,  by  heaven  !  I  will  not  re 
main  alone  in  bondage.  I  will  set  such  a  thrilling 
among  her  steady,  sober  pulses  as  shall  startle  her  out 
of  her  cold  reserve,  and  instill  into  her  frozen  nature 
new  life,  which  shall  throb  on,  henceforth  and  forever." 

Did  he  reflect  that,  to  secure  an  eternal  union  of 
souls,  the  bondage  must  be  mutual  ?  And,  mark  you, 
the  little  ringlet  had  made  a  deep  indenture  upon  his 
finger,  which  will  continue  for  as  long  a  space  as  its 
constrained  circles. 

Had  he  forgotten  his  voluntary  promise  to  the  good 
old  gentleman,  her  father,  a  couple  of  seasons  ago? 
No ;  neither  had  he  forgotten  a  certain  enlivening 
scene,  viewed  through  a  carriage  window  upon  a  rainy 
day.  Her  nature  was  as  a  pliant  piece  of  wax,  await 
ing  the  moulder's  hands.  Why  not  his  as  well  as  Rip- 
ley's  or  any  other  person's?  She  would  never  love 
Ripley, — of  that  he  was  certain,  even  though  she 
K* 


226  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

should  marry  him.  And  he  felt  equally  certain  that 
she  could  love  hint;  that  she  found  it  a  hard  task  to 
prevent  it,  in  fact.  A  genuine  attachment  could  not 
but  be  beneficial  to  her  in  arousing  into  being  latent 
capacities  of  soul,  which  otherwise  might  remain  for 
ever  dormant.  And  then  the  heroism  in  self-abnega 
tion  and  self-conquest  which  an  unfortunate  attachment 
would  call  forth  !  Was  there  any  beauty,  or  nobility, 
in  an  easy,  untried  life?  No;  and  so  with  this  heter- 
odoxical  process  of  reasoning  (whether  sophistical 
or  not,  you,  John,  can  judge  better  than  I)  Mr. 
Kingsley  decided  his  own  fate  and  that  of  the  gentle 
Ophelia. 

"Sometimes,"  says  the  unfortunate  Troilus, — 

"  We  are  devils  to  ourselves 
When  we  will  tempt  the  frailty  of  our  powers, 
Presuming  on  their  changeful  potency." 

It  is  a  little  strange,  too,  that  he  should  not  hesitate 
to  subject  the  tender,  loved  one,  whom  to  expose  to  the 
rude  cares  of  poverty  he  considered  almost  inhuman, 
to  the  far  more  terrible  trial — one  that  has  wrecked 
many  a  poor  soul — of  forbidden  passion. 

The  fact  is,  suspicion  had  demoralized  him.  He 
began  to  doubt  if  she  were  really  the  noble  creature 
he  had  fancied  her.  And  to  doubt  those  we  love 
turns  this  world  into  chaos.  Had  he  been  deceived 
in  her  character  and  disposition  ?  He  determined  to 
know. 

At  breakfast  that  morning  he  sat  by  the  bright-eyed 
seamstress,  Miss  Moffit,  who  at  present  is  let  to  that 
stout,  showy  brunette  with  a  couple  of  diamond  rings 
on  her  finger.  Mrs.  Diable's  select  boarding-house  is 
very  select, — that  is,  expensive, — and  a  seamstress  could 
not  have  found  her  way  into  its  sacred  precincts  save  in 
her  professional  capacity. 

The  stout  brunette,  who  speaks  in  a  loud  tone  and 
with  an  air  of  command,  and  her  husband,  who  lounges 
through  the  day,  and  disappears  from  the  view  of  re- 


WHO    CONQUERS?  227 

spectable  society  at  night,  pay  their  bills  promptly 
and  are  considered  select  at  Mrs.  Diable's  ;  whereas 
the  bright- eyed  seamstress  cuts  and  bastes  and  sews, 
and  "settles"  her  bill  with  making  Mrs.  Diable's 
dresses,  and  is  considered  scarcely  worth  speaking 
to.  This  morning  the  dashing  brunette  swallows  her 
breakfast  in  haste,  that  she  may  accomplish  a  little 
shopping  before  her  lord  awakes.  He  must  have  been 
unusually  oblivious  this  morning,  when,  in  the  dull, 
gray  light  of  the  early  day,  he  repaired  to  his  sleeping 
apartment,  or  he  would  never  have  forgotten  to  dispose 
of  his. pocket-book  in  a  less  accessible  place  than  his 
breeches  pocket, — in  consequence  of  which  he  will 
wake  to  curse  himself  for  a  brainless  fool  with  an  empty 
pocket,  and  find  his  dashing  wife  with  a  new  dress  in 
the  process  of  making  up  for  the  next  ball. 

"Are  you  sufficiently  supplied  with  employment, 
Miss  Moffit?"  said  Kingsley  to  his  bright-eyed  neighbor. 

The  little  dress-maker,  who  so  seldom  met  with  a 
disinterested  civility  in  this  genteel  boarding-house  as 
to  be  somewhat  suspicious  of  such  attentions,  turned  a 
keenly  inquisitive  glance  upon  her  interlocutor. 

"Because,  if  you  are  not,"  he  continued,  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  "  I  can  direct  you  to  a  lady  who, 
if  she  has  no  work  for  you  herself,  will  be  delighted  at 
an  opportunity  to  render  a  service  to  some  one,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  can  procure  for  you  all  the  employment 
you  would  desire,  and  consider  it  a  favor  to  herself,  or 
I  am  mistaken  in  her." 

"What  is  the  lady's  name?"  inquired  Miss  Moffit. 

He  took  a  card  from  his  pocket,  and  writing  Ophe 
lia's  address,  handed  it  to  the  little  dress-maker. 

"Ah  !"  she  exclaimed,  brightening.  "I  know  her! 
At  least,  I've  heard  of  her." 

"She  is  a  pious  young  lady,"  said  Kingsley,  with  a 
smile,  "  and  rejoices  in  doing  good  unto  others.  I 
think  that  you  had  better  not  mention  that  I  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  your  coming,  for  I  suspect  it  would  be 


228  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

no  recommendation  to  you  in  her  eyes,  as  she  con 
siders  me  an  unrighteous  heathen,  a  Babylonian,  from 
whom  could  emanate  no  good." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  do  need  work ;  and  when  I  am 
through  here  I  will  call  on  Miss  Berges,"  said  Miss 
Moffit,  gratefully. 

Here  was  disinterested  kindness  !  Here  was  a  neigh 
borly  service  with  no  selfish  expectation  of  a  return, 
and  not  the  first  either  !  Here  was  a  good  Samaritan 
indeed  ! — a  lamb  in  wolf's  clothing  !  / 

The  following  week  found  Miss  Moffit  engaged  upon 
an  elegant  piece  of  embroidery  for  Mrs.  Berges,  at  five 
dollars  a  week.  Mrs.  Berges  was  shrewd  and  close  at 
a  bargain.  The  work  was  a  silken  counterpane  ;  flowers 
in  their  natural  colors  upon  a  dark  stone-colored  ground. 

Ophelia  liked  the  sensible  little  seamstress,  and 
treated  her  as  if  she  were  a  guest.  They  chatted  and 
laughed  together  as  familiarly  and  merrily  as  old  ac 
quaintances.  One  day  Miss  Moffit  thoughtlessly  men 
tioned  Mr.  Kingsley. 

"Mr.  Kingsley!"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  looking 
slightly  surprised.  "  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  merely  know  him,"  she  returned,  "but  have  no 
acquaintance  with  him.  He  boards  at  Mrs.  Diable's, 
where  I  occasionally  get  work." 

Now  was  the  time  for  repaying,  in  a  measure,  his  kind 
ness,  thought  Miss  Moffit.  And  so  she  related  how 
one  evening,  when  she  had  chanced  to  be  unavoidably 
detained  very  late  at  Mrs.  Diable's,  he  had  accom 
panied  her  home,  though  he  had  declined  going  to  a 
concert  with  one  of  the  boarders  who  had  offered  him 
a  ticket,  upon  the  plea  that  he  had  work  to  do. 

"And  so  perfectly  polite  was  his  manner  that  no 
one  could  have  told  but  that  he  was  highly  pleased  and 
felt  himself  honored  by  having  my  company.  He  is 
not  one  of  those  gentlemen  who  are  polite  to  those  of 
their  own  circle  or  their  superiors,  and  rude  to  all 
whom  they  consider  beneath  them.  If  there  is  any 


WHO    CONQUEKS?  229 

difference  in  Mr.  Kingsley,  he  is  more  considerate  of 
the  feelings  of  his  inferiors." 

The  room  was  warm,  and  as  Ophelia  stitched  dili 
gently  upon  her  embroidery  a  deeper  color  mounted 
to  her  cheek.  "When  was  that,  did  you  say?"  she 
inquired  carelessly. 

"  Let  me  see.  It  was  in  the  spring,  for  I  remember 
that  I  had  on  my  scarf  and  my  winter  hat ;  I  hadn't 
got  my  new  one  yet." 

Ophelia  smiled,  nodded  her  head,  and  changed  the 
subject.  She  had  discovered  Viola's  black-eyed  girl, 
who  was  pf  such  low  standing. 

When  Miss  Moffit  returned  to  Mrs.  Diable's  "select 
boarding-house"  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  some  of 
the  "select  boarders"  into  a  fashionable  appearance, 
she  resumed  her  old  place  at  the  table,  next  to  Kingsley. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  having  devoured  his  supper 
in  unusual  haste  and  pushed  back  his  plate,  "did 
you  call  on  Miss  Berges?  and  how  did  you  like  her?" 

"Yes,  I  spent  several  weeks  there,  and  I  liked  her 
very  much,"  returned  Miss  Moffit.  "It  is  true  what 
I  have  heard  spoken  of  her :  she  is  as  near  perfection 
as  people  in  this  world  can  possibly  be.  The  sweetest, 
kindest  creature  I  ever  saw." 

Kingsley's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  plate,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  see  what  was  in  them.  And  yet  she  had 
an  idea  that  he  was  disappointed  or  displeased. 

"I  am  very  glad  that  I  mentioned  her  to  you,"  he 
said,  rising.  "  She  may  be  of  great  service  to  you." 

He  looked  disappointed  and  unhappy,  indeed,  as  he 
hurried  out  into  the  street.  He  roved  about  the  streets, 
struggling  with  himself.  "  I  will  crucify  myself !"  he 
exclaimed,  at  length.  "  I  will  sacrifice  my  own  life 
and  save  hers  ;  for  prohibited  love  is  madness  !  But  I 
must  see  her  once  more." 

They  were  entirely  alone  :  no  one  in  the  handsome 
apartment  but  themselves, — the  world  shut  out.  The 
tall,  gracious  figure,  the  gentle  air,  the  clear,  soft  eyes 


230 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


with  the  wondrous  changes  in  them,  and  the  graceful 
head  wreathed  with  a  crown  of  dusky  gold ;  in  all  his 
life,  however  long,  he  had  never  met,  nor  could  ever 
meet,  with  a  picture  which  moved  him  like  this.  Was 
there  any  reason  why  he  should  not  note  it  earnestly 
and  fix  its  every  feature  unalterably  in  his  memory  ? 
Was  not  the  beauty  of  this  world  lent  us  to  gladden  our 
hearts,  and  to  remind  us  of  another  world,  where  all 
things  are  beautiful  ? 

But  there  was  no  gladness  in  Kingsley's  heart  as  he 
looked.  Her  beauty  smote  upon  him  with  a  heavy 
sense  of  depression.  He  had  come,  he  told  her,  to 
bid  her  good-by.  His  life  here  was  growing  monoto 
nous.  He  wanted  to  see  the  world.  One  little  corner 
of  it  did  not  content  him.  His  tastes  were  cosmopoli 
tan  ;  and  he  felt  himself  more  suited  to  extended  plains 
and  wild  jungles  than  to  a  city  life.  The  social  mana 
cles  were  beginning  to  gall.  He  longed  for  a  life  of 
freedom  from  conventional  restraints. 

How  very  cold  and  stately  Ophelia  seemed  !  She 
looked  preoccupied,  as  if  she  had  scarcely  heard  what 
he  was  saying,  and  made  neither  inquiry  nor  comment. 
Had  she  no  feeling  for  him?  Did  she  not  care  what 
became  of  him?  As  Kingsley  looked  at  her,  his  heart 
sank  heavier  and  heavier  under  the  depressing  influ 
ence  of  her  impenetrable,  chilling  presence. 

Oh,  that  dumb  tongue  of  hers  !  She  could  say  noth 
ing.  Her  heart  was  benumbed  with  chilling  fears  and 
regrets, — unavailing  regrets,  and  fears  for  the  eternal 
safety  of  his  soul.  But  they  only  welled  up  from  un 
known  depths  of  silence,  and  then  recoiled  upon  them 
selves.  Oh,  the  untold  anguish  of  feelings  forever 
locked  within  an  unutterable  deep !  She  could  say  noth 
ing.  Even  her  look  was  reserved. 

He  arose,  took  her  hand,  and  said  his  brief  fare 
well  without  looking  at  her.  A  look  sometimes  tells 
more  than  many  words,  and  the  multitude  of  emotions 
imprisoned  within  might  prove  too  strong  for  the 


WHO    CONQUERS?  23! 

guard  he  had  put  upon  them,  under  the  magic  influ 
ence  of  hers.  A  serious  but  cool  farewell,  and  he  was 
gone. 

Gone!  For  a  moment  she  stood  motionless,  as  if 
stunned.  Then  she  hurried  out  into  the  darkness  and 
threw  herself  upon  the  ground  with  a  bitter  cry,  "  My 
God  !  my  Father  !  speak  to  him  !  I  cannot !" 

Do  not  sneer  at  this  speech,  John,  until  you  have 
analyzed  it,  and  have  pondered  upon  the  nature  of  that 
terrible,  inexorable  Voice  which  she  invoked. 

Down  in  the  dust  in  her  velvet  and  satin  the  stately 
woman  groveled.  Costly  apparel  were  but  rags  in  the 
sight  of  Him  whose  voice  maketh  nations  afraid  ;  who 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth  and  shut  up  the  door 
of  the  sea ;  who  accepteth  not  the  persons  of  princes, 
nor  regardeth  the  rich  more  than  the  poor. 

How  those  tame  people  who  have  never  felt  a  pang 
beyond  the  fear  of  physical  pain  or  loss  would  have 
wondered  to  witness  such  an  e'cstasy  of  grief  from  such 
a  cause  !  She  had  a  luxurious  home,  was  richly  clothed 
and  fed ;  why  should  she  moan  ?  Others  had  lost  their 
loved  ones  forever,  and  were  happy  after;  why  not  she  ? 

Know,  O  materialist,  that  the  power  of  human  suf 
fering  is  as  varied  as  the  human  countenance ;  that  its 
magnitude  differs  in  individuals  as  widely  as  the  magni 
tude  of  intellects  differs.  The  snail,  no  doubt,  suffers 
little.  Put  your  foot  upon  it,  and  it  is  dead.  Other 
creatures,  however,  die  hard,  and  with  excruciating 
pain.  In  like  measure,  affection  in  some  is  crushed 
out  of  existence  with  one  blow,  while  in  others  it 
struggles  and  suffers,  and  wrestles  against  the  power 
which  seeks  to  destroy ;  and  oftentimes  conquers  and 
lives. 

The  wind  moaned  amid  the  bare  branches  and  tan 
gled  vines  above  her.  And  when  she  had  poured  out 
her  cumbrous  anguish  to  Him  "  who  performeth  what 
his  soul  desireth,"  she  arose  from  the  ground  and  went 
into  the  house.  Sitting  by  her  lonely  fire,  she  contem- 


232 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


plated  her  wrecked  life — for  it  was.  wrecked,  and  the 
fragments  of  her  hope-freighted  bark  floated  away  out 
of  her  sight — without  a  sigh  or  moan.  Perhaps,  as 
Ariosto  imagined,  there  may  be  a  limbo  in  the  heavenly 
regions  for  things  lost  upon  this  earth ;  and  the  love 
which  is  poured  out  at  an  unworthy  shrine,  and  all  the 
sweet  and  pure  emotions,  hidden,  hidden, — because 
there  is  none  to  loose  them  from  their  prison, — are  not 
forever  lost ! 

She  was  weak  as  yet, — the  burden  of  her  grief  was 
new, — and  her  thoughts  roved  after  him ;  but  not  so 
weak  that  she  did  not  struggle  with  her  infirmity.  She 
had  entered  upon  an  important  portion  of  her  life. 
Her  mind  had  come  to  maturity  ;  her  principles  were 
fixed,  and  no  longer  the  play  of  idle  winds.  Had  all 
her  past — of  strength,  of  hope,  of  tenderness — but 
tended  to  this  hollow,  vacant  sea,  impoverishing  her 
life,  and  giving  nothing  in  return  ?  "  Now  is  life  over," 
was  the  secret  belief  of  her  heart.  All  her  labor,  all 
her  unwearied  watch-care  and  earnest  endeavor  to  make 
it  noble,  to  preserve  it  pure,  for  this !  She  remem 
bered'  the  poor  prisoner  who  delved  patiently,  night  by 
night,  in  the  hope  of  at  last  finding  his  way  into  free 
dom  and  light,  until  he  suddenly  came  to  a  stream 
which  rushed  in  and  overwhelmed  him. 

She  had  thought  herself  strong,  but  she  had  only  to 
be  tried  to  prove  how  worthless  was  her  boasted  strength. 
The  bells  tolled  twelve.  She  opened  her  window  and 
looked  up  at  the  sky  in  wonder.  How  gray  and  wan  ! 
She,  ,£00,  felt  gray  and  wan. 

You  recognize  the  real  sublimity  of  this  character, 
John  ?  You  understand  how  this  strong  capability  of 
feeling,  which  is  usually  mistaken  for  an  indication  of 
weakness,  is  in  reality  possible  only  to  the  strong? 

"  Minds  that  are  impassioned  on  a  more  colossal 
scale  than  ordinary,"  says  a  great  writer,  "deeper  in 
their -vibrations,  and  more  extensive  in  the  scale  of 


THE   LIFE-LIKE   STATUE. 


233 


their  vibrations,  whether  in  other  parts  of  their  intel 
lectual  system  they  had  or  had  not  a  corresponding 
compass,  will  tremble  to  greater  depths  from  a  power 
ful  convulsion,  and  will  come  round  by  a  longer  curve 
of  undulations." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE    LIFE-LIKE    STATUE. 

ALTHOUGH  Ophelia  and  Adele  were  as  true  friends 
as  ever,  a  distinct  change  marked  their  intercourse, — a 
formal  reserve  which  neither  tried  to  break.  Each  hid 
her  real  thoughts  from  the  other,  and  affected  a  con 
tent  which  neither  felt. 

One  afternoon  in  the  early  spring,  Ophelia,  making 
her  usual  weekly  call  upon  her  friend,  and  not  finding 
her  in  the  sitting-room,  was  directed  by  the  servant  to 
a  private  boudoir.  The  mistress  of  the  house  was  still 
in  her  morning  neglige  of  white  cashmere  with  pink 
trimmings,  and  her  hair  hung  in  graceful  disorder  about 
her  shoulders. 

"My  head  ached,"  she  apologized,  "and  I  couldn't 
bear  to  have  it  touched.  I'll  have  it  attended  to  pres 
ently,  and  look  like  a  civilized  being  ;  though  it  is  not 
likely  I'll  ever  be  anything  but  a  wild  savage.  Wild 
wood  plants  seldom  flourish  transplanted  into  gardens 
and  parterres.  I  used  to  think  this  sort  of  life  would 
make  me  happy,  but  I  pine  for  the  woods  and  hills  and 
streams." 

"The  life  you  are  leading  is  dissipated,"  returned 
Ophelia.  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  tire, — crowding 
enough  pleasure  for  a  lifetime  into  one  short  season. 
Too  much  enjoyment  is  as  unwholesome  as  too  little." 


20 


,* 


234 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


"  Suppose  there  is  no  enjoyment  in  it?" 

"  Then  it  is  so  much  the  worse  for  you.  It  is  like 
crowding  with  sweetmeats  a  reluctant  stomach,  to  use 
a  homely  comparison  !" 

.     "  I  was  not  out  last  night ;  though  it  matters  little 
whether  I  am  in  or  out,  I  sleep  so  little." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  the  concert." 

"  I  had  a  headache,  and  did  not  care  to  go.  Mr. 
Beckworth  stopped  on  his  way  to  his  club,  but  pro 
nounced  it  a  bore." 

"Of  what  club  is  he  a  member?" 

' '  I  have  never  inquired.  Not  a  literary  .club,  though  : 
ten-pins,  billiards,  seven-up,  and  suppers ;  a  club  to 
help  away  with  the  vacant  hours  of  this  interminable 
life." 

"  What  a  lovely  room,  Adele  !"  exclaimed  Ophelia, 
gating  admiringly  around  the  elegant  apartment,  in 
which  the  prevailing  color  was  sea-green,  the  panel 
ing  of  white  and  gilt. 

"Yes,"  said  Adele,  coldly.  "Mr.  Beckworth  has 
exquisite  taste." 

It  had  become  as  an  old  story  to  her.  She  no  longer 
derived  any  pleasure  from  its  beauty, — not  even  when 
attested  by  the  admiration  of  her  friends. 

Ophelia  arose,  and  approaching  curiously  a  window 
embrasure  heavily  veiled  in  rich  lace  curtains,  parted 
the  drapery,  and  looking  in,  gave  an  exclamation  of 
surprise  and  delight. 

"  Why  had  you  not  told  me  of  this,  Adele?  I  have 
never  before  seen  so  beautiful,  so  magnificent  a  piece 
of  statuary  !  How  long  have  you  had  it,  and  whose 
work  is  it  ?" 

It  was  indeed  a  magnificent  life-size  statue  of  Adele. 
The  shoulders  and  arms  were  bare,  and  the  whole 
figure  distinctly  outlined  through  the  scant  drapery. 
The  head  was  uplifted  proudly,  the  attitude  free  and 
unstudied.  The  figure,  the  attitude,  the  expression 
were  simple ;  yet  how  noble  !  It  might  have  been 


THE   LIFE-LIKE   STATUE. 


235 


Cordelia,  the  heroic  daughter  of  King  Lear,  receiving 
her  condemnation  and  offcasting  with  a  proud  patience 
which  betokened  a  strong  sense  of  her  father's  injustice, 
at  the  same  time  tempered  by  the  consciousness  of  her 
own  integrity. 

"We  only  received  it  two  days  ago.  It  was 
executed  while  we  were  in  Baltimore.  It  has  been 
solicited  for  exhibition ;  but  it  shall  never  be  removed 
from  that  sheltered  corner  with  my  consent." 

As  Ophelia  stood  silently  contemplating  the  mar 
velous  work  of  art,  she  heard  the  door  open  softly  and 
some  one  enter.  Adele,  who  sat  staring  musingly  into 
the  grate,  did  not  look  around;  but  Ophelia  turned, 
expecting  to  see  one  of  the  servants,  or  her  friend's 
husband.  What  was  her  surprise  to  see  Sid  Waltman 
enter  the  room  as  easily  and  familiarly  as  if  entering  a 
private  apartment  of  his  own. 

At  first  he  did  not  observe  Ophelia  ;  and  the  light 
which  sprang  into  his  eye,  and  the  soft  animation  which 
overspread  his  whole  countenance,  startled  her  into 
momentary  silence. 

He  advanced  quietly,  and  wheeling  up  an  easy-chair 
beside  the  mistress  of  the  house,  bent  forward,  and, 
looking  into  her  eyes,  exclaimed, — 

"What  is  it  that  so  occupies  the  thoughts  of  my  rev 
erend  aunt,  that  she  is  quite  oblivious  of  all  surround 
ings, — even  the  approach  of  her  graceless  but  devoted 
nephew?" 

Mrs.  Beckworth  started  violently,  and  turned  upon 
her  visitor  a  changeful  countenance.  Perhaps  there 
was  a  look  of  warning  in  her  eye,  for  he  immediately 
looked  up,  and  bowed  in  a  pleasant,  unembarrassed  way 
to  Ophelia. 

"Ah!  you  are  admiring  Hebe?"  He  entered  the 
embrasure  and  stood  beside  her,  contemplating  the 
statue.  "It  is  like  life,"  he  continued,  touching  the 
shoulder  softly  with  his  finger.  "  Cold  and  hard  like  the 
original.  It  stands  sublimely  indifferent  to  the  weak- 


236  UNDER    THE  'SURFACE. 

nesses  of  human  nature,  of  which  it  has  no  taint ;  inex 
orable,  unbending,  and  chill.  The  artist  plainly  loved 
his  task.  Look  at  the  faint  tracery  of  veins  in  the 
delicate  feet." 

"  Come  away  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Beckworth,  a  little 
petulantly.  "  If  I  could  have  my  wish,  it  should  never 
see  the  light  of  day." 

"It  is  an  execrable  piece  of  work  !"  exclaimed  Sid, 
with  extreme  gravity.  "It  is  a  base  counterfeit,  a 
miserable  parody  upon  the  incomparable  original. 
It " 

"  Do  hush  !"  returned  the  "  incomparable  original," 
laughing.  "  You  know  I  did  not  object  to  its  being 
stared  at  upon  that  account." 

Sid  inspected  her  countenance  a  moment  with  a 
searching  eye.  "  Mere  physical  beauty,"  he  resumed, — 
"  the  prettiness  of  faultless  features  and  rounded  limbs, 
— is  an  object  for  scorn,  unless  accompanied  with  in 
tellectual  beauty." 

"You  mean  spiritual,"  suggested  Ophelia.  "In 
tellect  unaccompanied  by  moral  qualities  is  no  more 
worthy  of  admiration  than  mere  material  beauty 
alone." 

"Tut!"  cried  Adele.  "People  talk  one  way  and 
think  another.  Mr.  Waltman  married  a  beauty  with 
out  hesitating  to  inquire  into  her  intellectual  resources, 
and  Miss  Berges  knows  in  her  own  heart  that  she  adores 
a  certain  personage  of  great  intellectual  powers  whose 
morality  is  exceedingly  questionable." 

"  Really,  I  think  your  assertion  needs  some  sort 
of  a  support,"  returned  Ophelia,  smiling  a  little  con 
strainedly. 

"I  assert  upon  authority  of  my  own  eyes.  I  am 
only  partially  blind,  Ophelia." 

"She  blushes!"  exclaimed  Sid.  "Is  it  possible? 
All  honor  to  the  knight  who  has  mastered  the  strong 
citadel  of  this  inaccessible  princess's  affections.  Was 
the  siege  stormy  and  brief?  or  was  it  a  steady  and 


THE   LIFE-LIKE   STATUE. 


237 


protracted  one  ?  I  should  like  to  know,  for  the  sake  of 
science." 

"It  was  neither,"  returned  Adele,  whose  face  ex 
pressed  mischief.  "  The  master  was  known  and  re 
cognized  immediately,  and  the  bolts  and  bars  of  course 
began  to  fly  back  at  once,  at  his  first  request  for  admit 
tance." 

"  You  hold  some  grudge  against  me,  I  suppose,"  was 
Ophelia's  brief  comment,  as  if  excusing  to  herself 
Adele's  infidelity. 

"Who  can  it  be? — angel  or  demon? — you  saintly 
paragons-  sometimes  develop  incomprehensible  tastes, 
— or  a  clever  admixture  of  both  ?" 

"A  great  deal  of  both,"  returned  Adele.  "His 
general  manner  has  the  beaming  benignity  of  a  sunny 
day  in  spring ;  and  yet  in  moments  of  passion  he  is 
like  a  whirlwind." 

"  Kingsley,  I  should  say:  the  description  suits  him  ; 
only  he  is  bespoke.  He  is  to  be  married,  I  hear,  soon 
after  his  return  from  Cuba  and  South  America,  to  Miss 
Louise  Benton." 

"  Kingsley,  indeed  !"  cried  Adele.  "As  if  you  had 
forgotten  that  Kingsley  was  my  lover!" 

She  had  caught  the  startled  look  which,  for  one  in 
stant,  rested  upon  Ophelia's  countenance,  and  then 
was  gone;  and  the  firm  compression  of  her  lips  which 
arrested  a  momentary  tremulousness. 

"  I  thought  so  at  one  time,"  returned  Sid,  "  but,  as 
you  say,  I  was  only  partially  blind,  and  finally  ascer 
tained  my  mistake." 

"And,  may  I  ask,  why  partially  blind?"  inquired 
Ophelia. 

"  Though  we  used  the  same  words,  it  was  with  en 
tirely  different  meanings,"  returned  Adele,  briskly. 
"I  meant  that  I  was  blind  only  to  my  own  interests; 
he  meant  that  he  was  blind  to  everything  but  his  own 
interests." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Waltman,  rising,  "where 


238  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

is  my  honored  uncle?  I  was  sent  in  haste  for  him  an 
hour  ago." 

"  Haste  indeed  !"  exclaimed  his  "  honored  uncle," 
coming  forward.  "Do  you  know  that  everything  is 
waiting  on  you  ?  A  grand  politician  you  !  While  the 
assembly  awaits  anxiously  your  important  presence,  you 
are  entertaining  yourself  in  a  lady's  boudoir.  Fortu 
nately,  I  knew  your  weakness,  and  came  straight  here." 
Although  he  brought  his  hand  down  heavily  upon  his 
nephew's  shoulder,  as  if  he  would  be  very  rough  with 
him,  there  was  an  indulgent  smile  upon  Mr.  Beck- 
worth's  face. 

Sid  arose  leisurely,  made  a  few  complimentary  re 
marks  to  the  ladies,  and  then  departed  in  company 
with  his  uncle. 

"You  see,  Ophelia,"  said  Adele,  looking  kindly  at 
her  friend,  "  I  have  discovered  your  secret.  You  con 
fided  in  me  only  partially,  and  now  it  is  best  that  you 
should  trust  me  wholly,  for  your  own  sake.  A  secret 
grief  cankers  the  heart  that  holds  it,  and  sometimes 
ruins  a  whole  life.  Olivia,  you  know, 

"  Never  told  her  love, 

But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud, 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek,' 

and  finally  more  disastrous  consequences  befell.  There 
is  no  wrong  in  love,  even  though  it  be  misplaced.  De 
Quincey  expresses  profound  reverence  for  the  person  of 
whom  it  could  be  said  that  he  had  been  once,  and  once 
only, — for  more,  he  declares,  argues  unsoundness  in  the 
passion, — been  desperately  in  love.  '  Great  passions,' 
he  says  '  (do  not  understand  me  as  though  I  meant 
great  appetites), — passions  moving  in  a  great  orbit  and 
transcending  little  regards,  are  always  arguments  of 
some  latent  nobility.  Few  are  capable  of  great  pas 
sions,  or  (properly  speaking)  passions  at  all.'  I  know 
your  nature,  and  I  know  if  anything  takes  hold  of  you 
at  all,  it  takes  hold  deep.  Love  does  not  stop  to  debate 


THE   LIFE-LIKE   STATUE. 


239 


whether  the  object  be  worthy  or  not ;  whether  he  be 
capable  of  repaying  in  like  measure,  or,  if  capable, 
willing.  There  is  no  barter  in  it.  It  is  a  full,  free  gift ; 
and  it  is  seldom,  very  seldom,  I  doubt  not,  that  it  re 
ceives  full  recompense ;  and  yet,  for  all  that,  I  regret 
not  my  love,  though  I  receive  nothing  but  condemna 
tion  for  it.  Ophelia,  I  have  sorely  needed  your  sym 
pathy  of  late ;  but  you  held  so  coldly  aloof  I  was  afraid. ' ' 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  Adele,  that  you  still  love 
Sid  Waltman?" 

"  Yes,  my  pious  friend, — though  I  know  I  shock 
you  by  the  confession, — I  still  love  Sid  Waltman,  and 
shall  ever  continue  to  love  him.  Oh,  it  is  awful,  I 
know," — discerning  signs  of  censure  in  her  friend's 
countenance, — "I  will  not  try  to  defend  myself.  But 
do  not  shut  me  out  from  your  sympathy ;  for  I  swear, 
Ophelia,  that  I  stand  in  great  need  of  it." 

"You  have  your  husband,"  suggested  Ophelia,  with 
slight  reproof  in  her  tone. 

Adele's  face  hardened. 

"My  husband!  Is  it  impossible  ever  to  get  away 
from  that  thought? — to  be  obliged  to  chant  the  praises 
of  my  incomparable  lord  and  master  from  morn  till 
night, — oh,  it  is  insufferably  wearisome  !" 

"  No  one  compelled  you  to  marry  him,  Adele." 

"No,  but  I  was  honest  with  him.  I  told  him  how 
it  was,  and  he  sneered  at  the  idea  of  a  woman's  love 
outlasting  a  phase  of  the  moon.  He  gave  me  leave  to 
love  Sid  as  long  and  as  hard  as  ever  I  could.  I  was 
beneath  the  feet  of  my  enemies,  and  here  was  an  op 
portunity  to  mount  above  them.  You  know  my  dis 
position  and  rny  pride.  I  could  not  remain  a  scoff  and 
a  by-word,  with  siu  li  an  opportunity  in  my  hand,  from 
any  dainty  scruples  about  love.  I  have  a  great  ad 
miration  for  my  husband  ;  otherwise,  I  could  not  have 
married  him.  My  love  would  be  an  annoyance  to  him. 
I  am  no  companion  to  him.  Our  tastes  run  in  widely 
different  channels.  I  am  simply  a  possession,  prized 


240 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


as  any  other  chattel,  according  to  my  merits,  my  power 
of  pleasing.  Oh,  if  I  had  no  heart !  If  I  could  only 
rest  content  with  this  tame,  lukewarm,  commonplace 
attachment !  But  I  cannot, — I  hate  it, — and  I  hate  this 
empty,  mocking  life  we  are  living.  If  I  could  only  be 
strong  like  you,  Ophelia,  and  content  like  you  !  Where 
do  you  get  it?" 

"  The  little  content  I  have  the  word  of  God  teaches 
me,  and  for  the  rest  I  trust." 

Adele  turned  away  with  a  sigh.  "  That  tiresome 
word  of  God  !" 

"  Adele,  I  want  one  promise  from  you,"  said  Ophe 
lia,  as  she  arose  to  go. 

"Well,  cara  mia,  what  is  it?"  With  some  of  her 
old  humor  she  set  her  head  upon  one  side,  and  struck 
a  comical  attitude  of  humble  attention. 

"That  you  will  shun  Sid  Waltman." 

"Shun  him,  Ophelia!"  she  exclaimed,  immediately 
turning  grave.  "  That  would  be  tantamount  to  con 
fessing  myself  afraid  of  him,  and  I  am  not  quite  such 
a  fool  as  that." 

"  Better  that,  than  any  trouble  should  arise  from  your 
continued  intimacy.  Viola  is  of  a  very  jealous  dis 
position,  and  would  hesitate  at  nothing  if  provoked." 

"Viola  !"  returned  the  other,  thoughtfully.  "  I  had 
not  once  thought  of  her.  She  seems  so  incapable  of 
any  feeling  but  vanity." 

"  She  is  capable  of  a  great  many  and  very  violent 
feelings,  and  jealousy  is  one  of  them.  She  is  a  woman 
who  wouldn't  scruple  to  do  any  injury  to  a  person 
whom  she  disliked.'" 

Adele  said  she  would  think  about  it,  but  gave  no 
positive  promise.  "  But  you  have  told  me  nothing 
about  Kingsley." 

"  You  are  positive  it  is  Kingsley,"  returned  Ophelia, 
arching  her  slender  brows.  "  I  will  tell  you  about  my 
love  another  time.  I  do  not  feel  entirely  equal  to  the 
task  this  evening." 


THE  LIFE-LIKE  STATUE. 


241 


She  smiled  and  tossed  her  head  as  if  casting  care 
to  the  winds,  and  there  was  the  old  placid  expression, 
with  which  she  masked  everything,  upon  her  face,  as 
she  went  off  down  the  street. 

Some  weeks  passed,  perhaps  a  month,  after  this,  and 
Ophelia,  looking  out  of  the  sitting-room  window,  -saw 
Hal  Ripley  coming  quickly  up  the  walk.  It  was  noth 
ing  unusual  for  Mr.  Ripley  to  call,  at  any  hour  in  the 
day  :  but  his  general  gait  was  that  of  a  man  of  elegant 
leisure,  and  Ophelia  naturally  supposed  that  he  must 
have  something  unusual  on  his  mind.  He  saw  the  look 
of  expectation  on  her  face  as  he  entered. 

"  Had  you  heard?"  he  inquired. 

"Heard  what?" 

"  That  Viola  Waltman  is  dead  !  Died  this  morning 
at  five  o'clock." 

"  Dead  !"  exclaimed  Ophelia,  dropping  her  work. 
"I  had  not  even  heard  that  she  was  sick.  Why,  she 
was  at  the  ball  night  before  last." 

"  Yes,  she  was  at  the  ball,"  returned  Hal  in  an  omi 
nous  tone,  "and  so  were  her  husband  and  Mrs.  Beck- 
worth,  who  are  slightly  concerned  in  this  matter." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Hal  ?"  cried  Ophelia,  in  vague 
alarm. 

"Do  you  remember  that  Mr.  Waltman  and  your 
friend  waltzed  and  danced  together  the  whole  evening, 
and  that  there  was  much  scandalous  talk  about  it?" 

"Yes  ;  it  was  imprudent  in  Adele,  but  she  was  ag 
gravated  at  the  silly  talk,  and  kept  up  a  pretense  of 
flirtation, — which  everyone  knew  was  innocent, — from 
sheer  defiance.  And  Mr.  Beckworth  was  equally  as 
devoted  to  Viola.  But  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do 
with  her  sudden  death." 

"  It  seems  that  Mrs.  Waltman  was  subject  to  hysteria, 
and  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  chloroform,  morphia, 
and  other  strong  drugs,  upon  such  occasions.  This 
time  she  over-dosed  herself,  and  the  physicians  found  it 
impossible  to  arouse  her.  Violent  excitement  was  the 
L  21 


242  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

cause  of  the  attack.  She  had  quarreled  with  her  hus 
band  about  his  proceedings  at  the  ball,  and  had  left 
him  and  gone  over  to  her  parents,  to  whom  she  related 
her  troubles,  and  they  encouraged  her  violent  resent 
ment  !  Her  mother  raves  like  a  maniac,  and  publicly 
accuses  her  son-in-law  and  Mrs.  Beckworth  of  murder 
ing  her  daughter." 

"  Poor,  wretched  woman  !  She  herself  is  to  blame. 
She  never  taught  her  child  the  least  self-control.  When 
Viola  gave  way  to  her  violent  temper,  she  let  her  have 
whatever  she  desired,  and  thus  encouraged  her  in  it. 
Viola  could  never  have  been  a  happy  woman,  under 
any  circumstances,  because  she  had  never  been  taught 
how  to  endure  the  ills  of  this  life  or  how  to  lessen 
them." 

When  Mr.  Ripley  had  gone,  Ophelia  went  to  Adele. 
She  found  her  friend  in  a  stormy  mood,  walking  from 
wall  to  wall,  with  dry  eyes  and  a  pallid  face,  which 
looked  as  if  storms  had  passed  over  it. 

"  I  was  just  wishing  for  you,"  she  said.  "  If  it  wasn't 
for  you,  Ophelia,  I  think  I  should  die.  The  one  sole 
thing  that  I  have  to  be  thankful  for  in  this  life  is, 
that  I  have  had  your  precious  love  to  comfort  me 
through  all." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  blame  yourself,  Adele, 
for  what  has  occurred  ?  You  had  no  more  to  do  with 
Viola's  violent  temper,  which  was  the  real  cause  of  this 
trouble,  than  if  you  had  not  been  at  the  ball." 

"  Poor  Viola  !  poor,  spoiled  child  !' — I  wonder  what 
has  become  of  her  soul,  Ophelia?  She  was  not  a 
Christian." 

' '  Oh,  I  cannot  say,  Adele.    It  is  not  for  us  to  decide. ' ' 

"  Is  there  no  promise  that  might  include  her?" 

"'Where  little  is  given,  little  is  required,' — that  is 
all  I  can  think  of,  Adele." 

"  I  hope  that  will  save  her,  and  yet  I  fear.  I  have 
never  feared  before.  This  is  an  awful  life,  Ophelia ! 
And  yet  so  small  a  thing  can  end  it !  Is  it  not  strange 


THE  LIFE-LIKE  STATUE. 


243 


that  a  pinch  of  arsenic,  or  a  little  chloroform,  should 
have  the  power  to  send  a  soul  to  judgment  ?' ' 

"  My  life  will  be  a  short  one,"  she  resumed,  after  a 
moment  of  gloomy  thought.  "The  raging  torrent 
soon  reaches  its  end,  and  turbulent  natures  soon  lash 
themselves  into  death's  abyss.  If  I  could  only  die  out, 
and  be  no  more  !  for  to  exist,  in  any  form,  must  be 
misery  to  such  stormy  spirits  as  mine.  Your  calm 
nature,  Ophelia,  cannot  conceive  of  the  agony  I  some 
times  have  to  endure." 

"You  are  very  wrong,  Adele,  to 'yield  yourself  to 
such  fits  of  passion.  It  is  a  great  injury  to  you." 

"Such  wild  passions  were  never  intended  for  con 
trol.  They  are  like  devastating  storms,  which  come  to 
destroy,  and  leave  behind  only  ruin  and  desolation." 

"You  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,  Adele;  you 
have  a  beautiful  home,  and  a  kind,  indulgent  husband. " 

Adele  shook  her  head.  "  My  marriage  was  a  mis 
take.  I  thought  love  could  be  studied  and  learned  as 
a  lesson.  But  I  find  that  respect  is  respect,  that  love 
is  love,  and  neither  can  be  changed  into  the  other. 
Apart,  we  admired  each  other,  and  in  friendly  associa 
tion  felt  no  jar ;  brought  into  closer  relations,  natural 
and  unalterable  attractions  and  antipathies  grate  upon 
each  other,  and  force  us  apart,  whether  we  will  or  no. 
The  present  epoch  of  my  life  is  long  past  with  him. 
We  live  in  different  periods.  Our  whole  natures,  our 
sympathies,  our  tastes,  are  differently  constructed. 
With  every  desire  to  love  each  other,  and  thus  harmon 
ize  these  discordances,  we  find  inexorable  impedi 
ments  holding  us  apart.  We  have  a  friendly  regard 
for  and  utmost  confidence  in  each  other,  and  nothing 
further  is  attainable.  I  am  tired  of  this  ceaseless  striv 
ing  which  can  never  result  in  anything.  I  am  tired  of 
this  chilly,  chilly  life,  and  am  ready  to  give  it  up  and 
be  disposed  of  according  to  the  Almighty's  will." 

I  am  sorrowful  to-night,  John.     I  know  not  where- 


244  UNDER   THE  SURFACE. 

fore,  unless  it  is  because  the  winds — in  whose  hoarse 
voice  I  detect  a  formidable  and  threatening  tone — 
keep  up  a  gloomy  monologue  about  my  window,  and 
prophetic  shadows  gather  upon  the  lawn,  thus  banish 
ing  from  my  thoughts  all  light  and  sportive  fancies. 
You  are  listening,  John,  and  a  shade  of  gloomy  antici 
pation  overclouds  your  countenance. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

INFINITUDE. 

SID  placed  his  child  with  a  clever,  honest  family  in 
the  country,  who  had  been  recommended  by  Mrs. 
Berges,  and  went  back  to  his  old  rooms  in  the  hotel. 
He  had  come  to  a  final  understanding  with  his 
wife's  relatives.  They  might  visit  their  grandchild  as 
often  as  they  wished ;  but  the  child  was  his,  and  he 
preferred  to  support  her  himself.  They  gave  her  up 
the  more  readily,  perhaps,  because  she  was  so  thor 
oughly  a  Waltman ;  and  yet  they  had  no  other  near 
relative,  and  she  was  Viola's  child,  after  all. 

And  so  the  old  lady  calmed  down,  and  the  old  gen 
tleman  made  his  will  and  bequeathed  her  half  his  for 
tune,  to  which  Sid  consented  with  the  air  of  one 
conferring  a  favor ;  and  now,  unshackled  and  free,  he 
gave  himself  up  more  thoroughly  to  his  ambitious 
political  schemes.  He  seldom  met  Adele  now;  he 
shunned  her,  for  there  was  an  impassable  barrier  be 
tween  them. 

The  last  time  he  saw  her, — how  little  either  of  them 
thought  it  the  last ! — she  was  standing  upon  the  broad 
steps  of  her  own  home.  Her  carriage  stood  at  the 
gate.  She  had  paused  to  give  s*bme  parting  injunction 
to  the  servant,  but,  upon  perceiving  Sid,  turned 


INFINITUDE. 


245 


quickly  and  hastened  to  enter,  her  rich  velvet  train 
sweeping  the  pavement  as  she  crossed. 

Adele  had  always  a  grand  appearance.  United  with 
her  physical  magnificence  was  an  imperial  air  which 
overshadowed  even  the  richness  and  grandeur  of  her 
attire.  She  looked,  and  carried  herself,  like  royalty. 
There  was  no  more  assumption  in  her  manner  than 
there  was  in  her  beauty.  It  was  all  her  own  natural 
and  inherited  possession,  and  she  could  not  have  looked 
or  acted  otherwise  without  assuming  a  part.  It  was  the 
queen  of  the  conservatory,  who  could  never  have  been 
other  than,  what  she  was, — queen  of  all  the  flowers,  no 
matter  where  she  grew. 

If  she  had  been,  in  reality,  a  heathen  goddess,  and 
Sid  one  of  her  idolatrous  devotees,  he  could  never 
have  felt  a  stronger  impulse  to  kneel  at  her  feet  and 
worship  her.  But  she  was  only  a  woman,  whom  Sid 
had  it  once  in  his  power  to  make  the  "  angel  of  his  fire 
side,"  and  would  not,  because  he  preferred  gold  and  the 
praise  of  men.  He  had  but  little  of  either  now,  and 
she  was  beyond  his  reach.  In  all  his  after-life  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  ever  forgot  the  sudden  passion  of  frenzied 
regret  which  seized  upon  him  at  that  moment,  and 
made  him  curse  himself  because  of  the  past,  the 
shameful  past ! 

Possibly  she' read  his  thoughts,  for  the  old,  ironical 
smile  crossed  her  face  as  she  returned  his  bow  and 
rolled  away  in  her  handsome  carriage. 

By  this  time  every  one  had  forgotten  Viola,  and  as 
Mrs.  Beckworth  pursued  her  usual  habits  of  gayety, 
the  nine  days'  scandal  died  a  natural  death. 

How  shocked  was  the  crowd  of  which  she  was  the 
brilliant  centre,  when  suddenly  it  was  announced  that 
their  beautiful  favorite  was  dying.  "What  life,  what 
vitality!"  they  exclaimed.  Many  refused  to  believe  it, 
until  she  would  strip  up  her  sleeve  and  show  them  the 
once-rounded  arm  so  emaciate  and  shriveled  that  they 
involuntarily  shrank  back  in  horror. 

21* 


246  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"My  death,"  she  said,  "will  have  more  effect  than 
my  life.  It  may  startle  some — who  are  as  vain  and 
frivolous  as  I  have  been — into  serious  thought.  Who 
had  a  fairer  promise  of  life  than  I?  And  yet  here,  in 
the  midst  of  my  enjoyments,  I  am  suddenly  called  to 
give  an  account  of  my  worthless  life.  Nothing  have 
I  ever  accomplished  toward  the  saving  of  my  soul, 
and  much  toward  damaging  it.  I  sought  ease  and 
pleasure,  but  an  invincible  power  rose  up  and  opposed 
my  will  at  every  point, — a  power  that  was  not  to  be 
set  aside." 

"Should  you  like  a  priest  or  minister?"  her  husband 
inquired,  when  he  discovered  that  there  was  no  longer 
any  hope. 

"You  may  send  for  Father  B ,"  she  replied. 

"He  is  a  good  old  man,  and  my  poor  mother  would 
be  frantic  if  she  heard  that  I  had  died  without  confes 
sion  and  the  sacrament." 

"Shall  I  send  for  your  relatives?" 

"Oh,  no!  Let  them  stay  where  they  are;  no  use 
in  troubling  them  unnecessarily.  That  I  have  you, 
my  kind  husband,  and  my  faithful  friend  Ophelia, 
satisfies  me." 

After  confessing,  and  receiving  the  sacrament,  she 
grew  rapidly  worse.  For  a  whole  night  and  day  bodily 
pain  kept  her  oblivious  of  everything  else.  When  at 
length  there  was  a  lull,  she  sank  into  a  heavy  slumber. 
From  this  she  awoke  with  a  cry,  and  tossing  her  hands 
wildly  above  her  head  looked  as  if  horror-struck. 

"What  is  it,  Adele?"  Ophelia  leaned  over  her, 
smoothing  the  white  forehead  that  was  furrowed  with 
a  frown. 

"  Is  he  forever  lost  ?  Will  nothing,  nothing  save 
him  ?  Oh,  my  friend,  will  not  you  try  to  lead  his  mind 
to  better  things  ?  Pray  for  him  and  with  him.  He 
will  think  more  seriously  of  the  life  to  come  when  I 
am  gone." 

"  Who,  Adele  ?    Your  husband  ?" 


INFINITUDE. 


247 


"  Sidney,"  she  murmured.  "I  had  a  vision — oh,  an 
awful  vision  ! — of  his  doom.  His  spirit  wore  the  same 
form  as  in  life.  He  wandered,  weary  and  travel-worn, 
over  the  earth,  in  constant  but  hopeless  search  for 
something,  I  know  not  what.  I  caught  glimpses  of 
him  now  and  then,  but  he  never  looked  to  the  right 
nor  to  the  left.  I  got  hold  of  him  at  last,  and  asked 
if  he  was  happy.  He  looked  at  me  then, — ah,  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  face  ! — it  was  the  look  of  the  eter 
nally  lost !  He  would  give  me  no  answer  until  I  en 
treated  him  to  let  me  know  how  it  fared  with  his  soul. 
Then  his-  only  reply  was  to  drop  on  his  knees,  and,  lift 
ing  his  hands  toward  heaven,  exclaim,  '  Oh,  God  !  I, 
who  must  henceforth  live  without  hope,  acknowledge 
that  my  punishment  is  just.'  Ophelia,  there  is  nothing 
in  hell  or  upon  this  earth  more  awful  than  a  human 
face  entirely  and  eternally  bereft  of  hope !  All  traces 
of  gentle  or  pleasing  emotions  forever  obliterated, 
and  one  unalterable  expression  of  uncomplaining  and 
hopeless  misery  fixed  eternally  upon  it !  Oh,  nothing 
but  the  human  countenance  can  express  eternity  of  de 
spair  !  The  damned,  who  in  this  life  have  steeped  their 
souls  in  lethargy  by  continued  selfish  indulgence,  awake 
in  eternity  and  see  the  justice  of  their  punishment.  Oh, 
what  is  to  become  of  the  souls  of  those  ministers  who 
teach  that  there  is  no  punishment  for  souls  hereafter, 
when  God  so  expressly  declares  there  is  ?  I  know  very 
little  of  the  Bible,  but  I  have  read  it  of  late,  and  have 
prayed,  as  only  a  soul  who  recognizes  that  it  is  about 
to  enter  upon  eternity  could  pray,  and  I  have  a  hope 
that  he  has  heard  my  prayer.  Whatever  fate  he  allots 
me,  I  will  feel  that  it  is  just ;  for  I  deserve  nothing  but 
punishment.  How  much  better  it  is  to  '  endure  afflic 
tion  with  the  people  of  God  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  sin  for  a  season  !'  Christ  suffered  and  died,  not 
that  we  might  live  in  ease  and  then  be  saved.  He 
only  cleared  a  strait  and  narrow  road  by  which  each 
and  every  one  is  entreated  to  enter  into  eternal  happi- 


248  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

ness.  Woe  to  the  preachers  who  teach  men  that,  no 
matter  what  road  we  take,  all  will  enter  the  same  place 
and  inherit  alike!" 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  sank  into  a  gentle  slumber 
from  which  she  again  awoke  with  a  look  of  terror. 
"Oh,  God  !"  she  exclaimed,  "if  I  am  saved,  it  will 
only  be  because  of  thy  great  mercy,  for  I  have  done 
nothing  to  merit  salvation  at  thy  hand  !  Oh,  Ophelia, 
make  friends  with  God,  that  you  may  not  find  it  so 
hard  to  have  faith  in  his  mercy  when  you  lie  here." 

"Do  not  be  afraid,  Adele,"  said  Ophelia,  as  calmly 
and  mildly  as  if  she  spoke  to  a  frightened  child. 
"  None  of  us  have  done  anything  to  merit  his  loving 
compassion  ;  but  he  has  promised,  if  we  truly  repent 
and  yield  our  souls  into  his  hands,  that  he  will  save 
us.  You  must  believe  in  him,  Adele." 

"I  do  believe,  and  I  am  not  afraid,"  spoke  the 
dying  voice,  already  changed:  "I  am  glad  that  I  was 
made  to  suffer.  It  was  his  hand  that  I  felt  pressed  so 
heavily  upon  me :  therefore  I  am  content ;  for  to  be 
touched  by  the  hand  of  God,  even  in  affliction,  is  to 
be  sanctified  and  blessed.  Remember  your  promise, 
Ophelia!" 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  her  husband.  "Promise 
me  that  I  shall  see  you  again  !  This  life  is  important 
only  that  it  decides  how  we  shall  spend  the  eternity  :  — 
in  that  it  is  of  awful,  awful  importance.  Promise  me 
that,  when  I  am  gone,  you  will  consider  these  things." 

"  I  do  consider  them,  Adele,"  he  returned,  "and  I 
promise  to  give  more  serious  heed  henceforth.  My 
life  has  been,  for  the  most  part,  bitter;  but  little  of  it 
remains,  and  I  willingly  offer  it  as  a  sacrifice  and  atone 
ment  for  the  wasted  past.  If  God  will  receive  this 
remnant,  I  give  it  freely  into  his  hands." 

"  It  will  be  hard  for  you  to  change  your  ways,"  she 
said,  "but  the  feeling  that  you  have  the  approval  of 
God  will  be  a  recompense." 

When  she  had  said  this  she  bade  all  present  farewell, 


INFINITUDE.  249 

and  then,  without   another  moan,  her   spirit  passed 
away. 

"  Partings,  claspings,  sob  and  moan, 
Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping, 
Heavy  noontide — all  are  done!" 

The  storm-tossed  spirit  at  last  had  found  rest, 

"  Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder; 
Where  life's  vain  parade  is  o'er ; 
Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 
And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more!" 

And  the  man  for  whom  the  departing  soul  grieved, — 
what  of  him? 

"I  have  just  heard  that  Mrs.  Beckworth  is  dead." 

"Yes,  sir,  she  died  last  night  at  twelve  o'clock." 

"  She  was  a  very  beautiful  woman,  but  I  suppose 
death  has  robbed  her  of  all  her  beauty?"  Sid  did  not 
look  up  as  he  put  this  question  to  Mrs.  Hinton, — his  vis- 
d-z>is  at  the  hotel  table  ;  but  as  he  awaited  her  answer, 
a  chill  crept  through  all  his  veins,  and  his  heart  seemed 
to  have  suspended  its  beating.  If  the  beauty  had  de 
parted,  it  would  no  longer  be  Adele,  and  he  could 
never  see  her  again  upon  this  earth, — perhaps  never, 
anywhere  ! 

Mrs.  Hinton,  who  had  looked  up  to  observe  a  party 
of  strangers  who  had  entered  the  room,  now  that  they 
were  seated  made  reply  :  "  Oh,  no  !  she  makes  a  very 
handsome  corpse.  They  have  her  dressed  elegantly, 
with  white  roses  and  camellias  scattered  over  her,  and 
she  still  looks  grand  and  queenly." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her,"  he  said,  in  a  musing 
tone.  "  Where  is  she?  in  which  room?" 

"The  farthest  on  the  left  of  the  hall.  The  room 
with  the " 

"  I  know,"  interrupted  Sid,  with  a  careless  nod. 
"  Are  there  many  persons  there  ?" 

"  Not  many.  You  know,  though  Mrs.  Beckworth 
was  very  much  admired  and  courted,  she  had  but  few 
real  friends.  Crowds  of  people  flocked  there  to  see 

L* 


250 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


her  for  awhile,  but  they  all  went  away  again,  and  I  do 
not  think  there  are  many  there  now." 

Mr.  Waltman  finished  his  supper  in  silence,  and  in  a 
short  time  after,  Mrs.  Hinton  observed  him  from  the 
parlor  window  taking  the  direction  of  his  uncle's 
house. 

The  grand  house  was  very  quiet.  A  dim  light 
burned  in  the  hall.  His  light  step  sent  a  hollow  echo 
up  the  gloomy  stairway.  He  noticed  everything  with 
a  singular  insensibility.  He  wondered  at  his  lack  of 
feeling.  Was  it,  after  all,  only  a  sensual  passion  that 
had  swayed  him  so  entirely,  and  had  perished  with  the 
body  ?  He  did  not  care.  Let  it  die  !  It  had  brought 
him  only  unhappiness.  He  was  glad  to  find  himself 
free  at  last. 

Nevertheless  he  felt  a  vague  awe  creeping  upon  him 
as  he  entered  that  rigid  presence.  There  was  no  one 
in  the  room.  He  closed  the  door  and  turned  the  key 
to  secure  himself  from  interruption.  He  had  come 
there  to  arraign  his  heart, — to  put  it  upon  trial, — and  to 
grow  acquainted  with  Death!  —  to  see  what  of  the 
dread  unknown  he  could  wring  from  its  outer  sem 
blance. 

Was  this  Adele  ? — this  stony  bride  of  Death  ?  That 
marble  brow,  the  temple  of  a  noble  mind,  untenanted 
now  ! — the  closed  eyes — the  sealed  lips — nothing  there ! 
A  bright,  joyous  figure  rose  up  from  the  past  and  con 
fronted  him.  He  remembered  the  very  day  its  vitality 
began  to  wane.  He  remembered  the  very  day  the  bloom 
began  to  fade  from  her  cheek  to  return  no  more.  Upon 
that  day  he  broke  a  solemn  vow  and  blackened  his  soul 
with  a  stain  that  all  time  could  not  remove.  Upon 
that  day  he  broke  a  heart ! 

"And  /still  live  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  sudden  frenzy 
of  remorse. 

This  dead  body — dead,  perhaps,  by  his  misdoings — 
flashed  a  new  and  appalling  light  upon  his  past  life,  in 
which  its  meanness,  its  utter  paltriness,  stood  forth  in 


INFINITUDE. 


251 


horrible  distinctness :  until  he  was  ready  to  cry  out, 
"  It  would  have  been  better  for  me  had  I  never  been 
born." 

"Adele!"  his  spirit  called.  "  My  love  still  lives! 
Is  this  its  dissolution  which  moves  me  so  ?  Can  one 
love  dust  and  corruption  ?  No  !  at  last  I  stand  by  the 
death-bed  of  a  passion  which  has  brought  me  nothing 
but  misery. 

'  What  pang 

Is  permanent  with  man  ?     From  the  highest 

As  from  the  vilest  thing  of  every  day 

He  learns  to  wean  himself,  for  the  strong  hours 

Conquer  him.' 

"And  is  this  the  common  end  of  the  wise  man  and 
the  fool?  A  brief  day  of  toil  and  suffering,  and  we 
drop  back  into  the  infinitude  of  nothing,  from  whence 
we  sprang.  What  use  to  mar  our  days  with  striving 
after  good  ?  And  yet  there  is  a  thirst,  an  unquenchable 
desire  within  our  natures,  for  something  higher  than 
this  world  affords,  and  a  noble  scorn  for  the  vulgar, 
fleeting  pleasures  of  this  earth.  Is  it  for  naught  ?  In 
nature,  all  things  revolve  toward  some  certain  aim — 
some  attainable  purpose.  Whatever  desire  we  experi 
ence,  there  is  some  method  for  its  accomplishment — 
except  this.  Is  this  eternal  sighing  after  unattainable 
perfection  purposeless?  Oh,  my  love!  to  all  these 
'tangled,  searching,  incoherent  thoughts,  thou  art  mute. 
If  thou  art  dead,  indeed,  forever,  then  is  this  world 
dead  to  me  !" 

As  he  stood  looking  down  upon  the  shrouded  form, 
he  muttered  to  himself  that  she  was  dead — that  he 
would  never  see  her  or  hear  her  speak  again,  that  there 
was  no  longer  such  a  being  in  existence  anywherei  But 
be  could  not  believe  it.  Upon  her  death-bed  she  had 
said  that  God  would  save  her,  though  in  her  life  she 
had  sometimes  expressed  a  doubt  if  there  were  any 
God.  It  could  not  be  that  she  had  ceased  to  exist,  in 
any  form. 


252 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


As  he  stood  by  the  dead  body  of  his  wife,  no  such 
thoughts  as  these  had  entered  his  mind.  Only  a  hor 
rible  sense  of  strangeness  thrilled  him  as  he  looked 
upon  the  rigid  little  form,  invested  with  the  awful  dig 
nity  of  death ;  and  his  strongest  feeling  was  a  desire 
to  get  away — out  of  the  unnatural  presence.  But  this 
corpse  awoke  no  feeling  of  horror  or  repulsion,  and  he 
lingered  and  lingered  under  the  influence  of  a  strange 
fascination.  His  soul  roamed  abroad,  searching,  amid 
the  infinitudes,  for  its  lost  love.  It  sought  to  pierce  the 
darkness,  the  infinite  stillness,  the  insensibility  which 
had  settled  upon  her  frozen  features. 

Viola  had  had  no  part  in  his  spiritual  life.  She  had 
never  once  touched  the  smallest  chord  of  his  spiritual 
nature.  Her  influence  had  passed  away  with  the  petty 
attractions  upon  which  it  was  founded.  Adele  had 
wrought  upon  the  imperishable  portion  of  his  being, — 
the  intellect  and  heart, — and  the  result  of  her  sway 
would  never  cease  to  be  felt  throughout  his  whole  life. 
"Farewell  forever!"  he  exclaimed,  touching  softly 
with  his  lips  her  forehead  and  lips.  "  Yes,  forever  /" 
"Raised  a  spiritual  body  !" — would  that  be  the  Adele 
whom  he  had  known  and  loved  ?  If  it  were  possible 
that  he  should  ever  see  her  again  it  would  be  as  an  angel, 
in  a  vast,  white-robed  choir,  and  he  had  no  sympathy 
with  angels.  He  had  hated  the  thought  of  an  Om 
nipotent,  to  whom  we  were  the  insects  of  an  hour.  A' 
sinless  life,  devoid  of  all  ambition,  of  all  sensual  plea 
sures  and  selfish  aims,  had  no  attraction  for  him. 

The  plowshare  of  grief  struck  deep.  The  soil  was 
prepared  for  the  planting,  and  the  industrious  "enemy" 
was  ready  with  the  "tares." 

What  had  been  his  life  but  a  vain  and  ceaseless  strug 
gle?  Could  he  point  to  one  single  day — ay,  one 
single  hour — in  which  he  could  have  said,  "  Now  am 
I  supremely  happy"?  Not  one.  Who  was  to  blame  for 
this?  Who  directed  the  circumstances  by  which  his 
existence  was  ruled  ?  The  hated  Eternal  One  ! 


INFINITUDE. 


253 


His  mind  was  wrought  to  its  highest  pitch  of  excite 
ment.  Despair  did  not  humble  and  depress  him,  but 
aroused  within  him  a  fierce  wrath  against  the  invincible 
Power  which  opposed  his  will, — who  created  us,  and 
endowed  us  with  faculties  and  impulses  which  must  in 
evitably  lead  us  to  destruction.  "Gather  about  us,  as 
we  may,  things  pleasurable, — things  elevating  and  en 
nobling, — this  High  Exalted  espies  the  dear  delight 
and  snatches  it  from  us  before  we  have  clutched  it. 
Shall  we  render  love  and  gratitude  for  such  cruel 
tyranny?  I  seem  to  hate  and  defy  him  !  Let  him  exer 
cise  upon-  me  the  utmost  extent  of  his  power, — let  him 
crush  me  into  the  very  depths  of  his  hottest  hell, — and 
still  I  could  despise  and  defy  him  !  Even  I,  small 
creature  as  I  am,  could  never  have  been  guilty  of  such 
despicable  cruelty.  'Narrow  the  road,'  indeed, — 
so  narrow  that  only  small,  meek  souls  can  travel 
upon  it." 

A  new  and  horrible  energy  took  possession  of  him, — 
a  thirst  for  power, — power  to  crush,  to  degrade,  to 
ruin  the  moral  lives  of  others  as  his  had  been  ruined. 
This  rank  growth  of  evil  was  not  the  work  of  that 
hour  within  the  presence  of  his  dead  love,  but  the 
sudden  efflorescence  of  a  deadly  plant  which  had  grown 
with  his  growth.  It  had  existed  before  ever  he  had 
entered  the  political  arena, — the  calculating  general  of 
his  own  cohort  of  selfish  and  ambitious  desires, — ready 
to  crush  the  friend  or  foe  who  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
progress;  before  ever  he  had  sated  his  vanity  with  easy 
triumphs  over  the  frail  hearts  of  frivolous  beauty ;  be 
fore,  a  school-boy,  he  not  only  schemed  for  the  place 
of  honor  for  himself,  but  humiliation  for  his  comrades  ; 
and  perhaps — who  knows? — even  before,  a  suckling, 
in  fits  of  anger — he  bit  his  mother's  breast  because  it 
failed  to  yield  him  the  repletion  he  desired.  All  that 
now  blossomed  forth  in  full  maturity  had  existed,  in 
germ,  in  the  new-born  infant.  Is  man,  then,  predes 
tined  to  destruction?  No. 


254  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

When  he  turned  away  from  the  corpse  there  was  a 
look  of  bitter  anguish  upon  his  countenance,  such  as 
never  finds  relief  in  tears.  Weep?  Not  he!  There 
was  a  fierce  flame  within,  which  scorched  up  all  tender 
and  sorrowful  emotions  such  as  are  accessible  to  com 
forting  influences.  But  at  the  door  he  turned  upon  the 
last  dead  joy  of  his  life  a  look  of  remorse,  and  there 
sprang  to  his  lips  the  cry,  "Oh  that  I  were  good!" 
And  as  he  stepped  out  upon  the  street, — out  into  the 
plodding  world, — the  shadow  of  an  awful  communion 
rested  upon  his  features.  What  ailed  the  world,  that 
it  seemed  so  small, — so  insignificant? 

He  walked  the  thronged  streets  like  one  in  a  dream. 
He  had  exhausted  himself  with  fury;  and  to  what  pur 
pose?  Nothing  answered  him.  His  impotent  ravings 
fell  back  upon  his  own  soul  as  if  they  had  encountered 
nothing  but  space.  Was  there  such  a  being  as  the 
Invisible? 

"  Six  thousand  years  had  death  reigned  tranquilly, 
Nor  one  corpse  came  to  whisper  back 
What  after  death  requites  us." 

Suddenly  the  conviction  fell  upon  him,  "There  was 
no  God!"  Was  he  not  delighted  that  there  was  no 
self-glorifying  Power  "having  mercy  upon  whom  he 
would,"  and  whom  he  \vould  sending  to  destruction? 
Was  he  not  consumed  with  joy  that  there  was  no  in 
satiable  and  ever-boding  eternity  to  fright  the  reveler 
from  his  pleasures?  Oh,  yes!  It  was  a  comforting 
thought ;  but,  somehow,  with  that  thought  a  sudden 
blight  seemed  to  fall  upon  his  life.  All  the  life  and 
energy  which  had  hitherto  animated  him  now  took 
flight,  leaving  a  dull,  dull  void,  which  nothing  could 
ever  fill. 

He  looked  at  the  people  whom  he  passed,  the  puny 
insects  of  a  day,  with  something  like  pity.  In  this 
new  light  which  had  sprung  into  his  mind,  how  feeble 
and  insignificant  seemed  the  pursuits,  the  pleasures, 


INFINITUDE.  255 

and  possessions  of  this  life!  How  transitory!  ho\v 
evanescent !  Wealth,  knowledge,  fame, — baubles,  all! 
"Toil  on;  heap  your  little  piles  of  goods  together,  for 
another  to  inherit  when  you  are  dead.  It  is  the  same 
now  as  it  has  always  been, — as  it  will  always  be.  The 
world  has  always  existed,  and  will  continue  the  same 
henceforth  and  forever, — a  never-ending  circle,  which 
had  no  beginning  and  could  have  no  ending.  Its 
creatures  die  and  their  bodies  go  to  fertilize  the  soil. 
The  heathen  have  their  mythical  gods, — some  nobly, 
sonue  meanly  conceived  (according  to  the  degree  of 
refinement  and  civilization  of  the  nation),  whom  they 
worship  with  as  great  fervor  and  oftentimes  more  sin 
cerity  than  the  canting,  hypocritical  Christians  accord 
to  their  great  I  Am.  The  brutes  love;  they  hate; 
they  have  instincts  of  worship,  only  on  a  smaller  scale. 
If  the  brute  emotional  power  must  perish  with  the 
body,  what  reason  has  man  to  suppose  that  he  will  not 
share  the  same  fate?  None  but  such  as  his  egotistical 
nature  prompts  him  to  conceive.  The  Bible,  the 
Talmud,  the  heathen  traditions  which  we  moderns 
call  mythology, — all  the  work  of  man,  growing  in 
grandeur  as  man  grows  wiser  and  more  expert  in 
mental  resources."  Never  before  had  he  given  this 
subject  serious  and  earnest  thought.  He  had  accepted 
the  opinions  of  the  masses  without  investigation.  But 
now  he  thought  he  had  thoroughly  sifted  the  matter, 
and  settled  it  in  his  mind  beyond  refutation, — there 
was  no  God ! 

The  world  wondered,  as  they  saw  Sidney  Waltman 
growing  more  and  more  indifferent  to  his  own  advance 
ment  and  to  the  opinions  of  the  people.  His  political 
opponents,  released  from  his  vigilant  surveillance,  waxed 
bold,  and  gathered  their  forces  for  his  overthrow.  There 
was  one  who  had  stood  in  his  way, — one  whose  talent 
and  tact  equalled  his  own,  and  who  possessed  a  true 
philanthropy  in  which  Sid  had  always  been  lacking. 
This  man  had  kept  pace  with  Sid  in  all  his  advance- 


256  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

ments,  and  sometimes  it  had  happened  that  he  had 
been  forced  to  follow  in  his  wake.  For  this  Joseph 
Sid  had  quietly  prepared  a  pit  wherein  to  extinguish 
the  rival  luminary  which  threatened  to  eclipse  himself. 
This  dishonorable  piece  of  work  had  been  discovered, 
and  Sid  was  summoned  by  his  own  party  to  "clear 
himself  of  the  vile  slander." 

He  appeared  before  his  tribunal  of  friends  and  ene 
mies,  gloomy,  but  calm.  His  look  was  abstracted. 
His  friends  were  triumphant,  his  enemies  dubious,  as 
they  observed  his  mild  and  careless  demeanor.  The 
house  was  still,  every  tongue  silent,  as  he  arose  in  reply 
to  his  accusers. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  given  anyone  cause  of  offense," 
he  said.  "  I  have  been  too  ambitious  of  place  and 
power,  and  I  think  it  is  better  for  me,  and  perhaps  for 
others,  that  I  should  withdraw  from  all  political  war 
fare.  My  overweening  ambition  unfits  me  for  public 
office,  and  I  here  resign  the  honorable  position  pro 
posed  by  my  friends,  and  decline  the  candidacy  which 
it  had  been  my  greatest  pleasure  to  accept."  In  regard 
to  the  accusations  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

There  was  a  stare  of  surprise  upon  the  countenances 
of  his  audience.  "All  bosh!"  at  length  some  one 
exclaimed.  "  Waltman's  a  consummate  hypocrite; 
would  rather  act  a  part  any  day,  than  appear  in  his  own 
natural  character,  even  though  he  lost  by  it." 

But  his  opponent,  his  charitable,  philanthropic  rival, 
immediately  forgave  him,  and  requested  that  the  matter 
might  be  dropped. 

"I  see,"  resumed  Sid,  "that  my  motives  are  mis 
trusted.  It  is  no  more  than  I  could  expect,  and  yet  I 
speak  my  own  convictions.  My  decision  is  final.  I 
have  no  desire,  at  present,  to  contend  for  position  or 
honor.  I  hope  you  will  consider  me  as  wholly  with 
drawn  from  all  part  or  parcel  in  politics.  And  no  one, 
I  think,  can  experience  more  pleasure  at  my  resigna 
tion  than  myself." 


INFINITUDE. 


257 


But  litile  more  was  said  on  the  subject.  Sid's  ill- 
used  party  hastened  to  change  the  subject,  and  after 
wards,  upon  the  first  private  opportunity,  individually 
confessed  themselves  mistaken  in  their  man.  None  of 
them  condescended  to  inquire  into  his  plans  and  in 
tentions.  His  generous  rival,  who  was  to  reap  the 
benefit  of  Sid's  dereliction,  was  the  first  to  inquire  as 
to  his  future  prospects  and  shortly  after  to  offer  his 
services. 

"I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do  yet,  or  where  I  shall 
go,"  was  his  reply.  "I  should  like  a  foreign  appoint 
ment,  and  should  be  glad  of  your  assistance.  Consul 
to  some  little  island  or  small  port  will  satisfy  me. 
What  I  want  is,  to  get  away." 

The  place  which  had  witnessed  his  errors,  his  fail 
ures,  and  his  disappointments  became  hateful  to  him  in 
his  time  of  remorse.  Fame  nor  power  were  any  longer 
objects  to  him  now.  It  had  never  entered  his  mind 
that  Adele  could  die.  He  had  thought  of  her  as  living 
always,  and  always  loving  him.  Lately  he  had  felt  that 
she  should  yet  be  his, — and  now  she  was  dust.  What 
was  the  world  to  him  now?  Love  another?  Never  !  He 
never  wanted  to  see  another  woman.  Since  happiness 
was  no  longer  possible  to  him,  he  would  betake  him 
self  to  the  uttermost  corner  of  the  earth,  where  he  could 
indulge  his  unhappy  thoughts  without  disturbance. 
Absolute  misery  he  coveted,  and  a  quiet  spot  wherein 
to  mourn  his  fill,  unremarked. 

It  grows  dark.  The  shadows  creep  slowly,  but  surely, 
up  from  the  unknown  domain  of  Night.  The  silence 
and  calmness  of  repose  gather,  like  a  pall,  about  us. 
Are  you  there,  John  ?  and  are  you  thinking  of  all  I 
have  been  telling  you  ? 

Life  no  longer  seems  a  thing  for  laughter  and  jest. 
Dark  clouds  envelop  the  sky.  Oh,  how  sorrowful  I 
am  to-night !  The  collected  misdoings  of  the  whole 
world  overshadow  my  soul.  Ah,  that  the  world  were 


258  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

good,  and  that  it  loved  light  rather  than  darkness,  and 
was  willing  to  sacrifice  the  brief  pleasures  of  this  life, 
if  need  be,  to  gain  the  everlasting  happiness  of  eter 
nity  !  What  does  God  mean  by  this  strange  warfare 
of  good  and  evil  ? 

Forgive  me,  John,  but  I  too  loved  Adele,  and  I 
cannot  part  from  her  without  a  few  bitter  thoughts. 
She  was  not  what  the  world  calls  "good,"  and  I  can 
not  tell  what  God  has  done  with  her  soul ;  added  it, 
I  hope,  to  the  throng  who  have  "washed  their  robes 
and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 
Deep  and  sincere  repentance  is  never  scorned  by  the 
merciful  God. 

"Raised  a  spiritual  body '."  Divested  of  its  mortal 
mould  the  spirit  stands  forth  in  its  utter  nakedness,  fair 
or  foul  as  our  lives  have  made  it.  It  is  better  to  begin 
betimes  to  be  good,  John,  to  cleanse  and  purify  your 
soul  and  clothe  it  with  good  thoughts  and  noble  deeds, 
that  it  may  not  come  unadorned  to  the  "  marriage  of 
the  Lamb." 

I  speak  no  more  to  you,  John,  than  to  myself;  and 
I  mean  diligently  to  seek  the  mending  of  my  ways,  that 
I  may  be  fitted  for  that  eternity  of  freedom  which  is 
promised  to  those  who  can  find  it  in  their  hearts  to 
deny  themselves  for  the  sake  of  God's  pure  laws.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  doubted  the  mercy  and  goodness  of 
the  Father.  But  now  that  I  have  made  myself  acquainted 
with  his  exceeding  patience  and  long-suffering  toward 
his  foolish,  wayward  children,  I  am  made  to  wonder 
at  the  exceeding,  the  illimitable,  grandeur  of  his  attri 
butes,  and  no  longer  fret  myself  over  the  rewarding 
of  virtue  and  punishing  of  vice. 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  J5LESSINGS.          259 
CHAPTER  XXV. 

ENUMERATING   ONE'S    BLESSINGS. 

THE  character,  disposition,  and  habits  of  Mrs.  Beck- 
worth  were  freely  canvassed,  now  that  she  was  dead. 
No  fear  of  her  keen  wit  and  of  her  extensive  influence 
now.  The  handsome  and  singularly  fascinating  young 
woman,  who  had  suddenly  sprung  from  "the  very  fag- 
end  of  the  world"  into  the  heart  of  metropolitan  so 
ciety  and  electrified  it  with  her  wild,  picturesque  beauty 
and  grotesque  ways,  who  had  snatched  the  laurels  from 
the  aristocratic  heads  of  the  high-bred  belles,  and  worn 
them  in  spite  of  their  malicious  manoeuvring,  had  as 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  vanished.  What  was  there 
left  her  envious  rivals  but  to  desecrate  her  memory, 
and  lay  bare  to  the  public  gaze  her  every  fault  and 
foible  ? 

Ophelia  could  not  endure  the  unjust  criticisms,  the 
merciless  judgment,  and  the  callous  remarks  of  the 
public  upon  her  dead  friend,  and  so  she  went  on  a  visit 
to  some  friends  in  a  neighboring  city.  Here  she  em 
ployed  herself  in  striving  to  divert  her  mind  from  her 
trouble, — casually  falling  at  times  into  fits  of  despondent 
musing. 

The  two  loves  of  her  life  snatched  away,  how  va 
cant,  how  dull,  her  friendless  future  !  Oh,  it  seemed 
very  cruel  in  the  overruling  powers  to  darken  her  life 
with  such  heavy  bereavements  !  A  life  without  friend 
ship  or  love, — it  was  hideous  to  contemplate  ! 

From  this  rebellious  mood  she  was  suddenly  startled 
by  a  telegram  from  Mrs.  Berges.  "  Come  home  imme 
diately,"  it  said;  "  Mr.  Berges  and  Walter  are  both  very 
ill." 

How  changed  her  thoughts  as  she  hastened  home  ! 


260  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"Oh,  my  papa  !  I  cannot  give  him  up  !  If  God  takes 
him,  I  have  no  desire  to  live.  Oh,  thou  Most  High, 
forgive  me  that  I  have  been  so  unmindful  of  thy  goodness 
in  granting  me  so  kind,  so  loving,  a  parent !  And  I  had 
turned  from  this  kind,  patient  friend  to  mourn  over  my 
lost  idols  !  Oh,  how  unmindful  we  are  of  our  greatest 
blessings  until  they  begin  to  slip  from  our  grasp !" 

But  these  eleventh-hour  petitions  and  promises  sel 
dom  avail  aught,  and,  notwithstanding  her  late  repent 
ance  and  prayers,  Ophelia  found  her  father  dying. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  people  around  the  bed.  She 
pushed  through  them  and  stood,  in  her  traveling  attire, 
looking  despairingly  down  upon  her  dying  parent. 
Ah,  me  !  his  account  with  this  world  was  almost* closed. 

"Poor  Ophelia!"  he  said,  looking  up  at  her  as  she 
stood  weeping  silently  by  his  bedside,  "  poor  child  !  I 
don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  you  !" 

Ophelia  threw  herself  upon  her  knees,  and  burying 
her  face  against  the  bedside,  sobbed  aloud. 

"Oh,  my  child,"  he  said,  mournfully,  "you  must 
not  grieve  so  !  You  are  a  good  girl,  and  some  way 
will  be  provided  for  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  papa,  I  know  there  will !  Are  you  happy, 
papa?  are  you  willing  to  go?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  child  ;  I  surfer  so  that  I  will  be  glad 
to  escape  this  pain." 

"But,  papa,"  she  persisted,  "you  believe  that  God 
will  save  your  soul?  You  love  and  trust  him?" 

"Yes,  yes;  I  have  always  loved  and  trusted  him. 
All  will  be  well  as  soon  as  I  am  rid  of  this  pain." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  he  was  rid  of  the  pain,  and 
"all  was  well."  Why  should  we  lament  the  sacred 
dead?  "In  my  Father's  house"  are  there  not  "many 
mansions?"  And  our  loss  is  only  for  a  brief,  brief 
period. 

Mrs.  Berges  was  confined  to  her  room,  too  ill  to  see 
her  husband  buried,  but  she  ordered  that  the  prepara 
tions  for  the  funeral  should  be  upon  the  grandest  scale. 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  BLESSINGS.         261 

"Give  me  an  inexpensive  funeral,"  had  been  his 
dying  request:  "a  plain  oak  coffin,  no  trappings,  and 
no  endless  train  of  carriages.  It  is  foolish  to  throw 
money,  which  would  buy  many  a  poor  beggar's  meal, 
into  the  grave  to  rot." 

Walter,  too,  was  very  ill,  and  none  but  the  nurse  and 
physician  were  admitted  to  his  room.  He  had  not  been 
told  of  his  father's  death  until  the  third  day  after  the 
funeral,  when  Ophelia  carried  to  him  the  sad  tidings. 

Ophelia  started  in  astonishment  as  she  entered  his 
room.  How  close  to  death  the  little  fellow  must  have 
been  to  have  assumed  so  nearly  its  similitude  !  All  the 
red  and  brown  was  gone  from  his  face,  which  looked 
thin  and  wan.  Ophelia  sat  by  him  and  held  the  slender 
little  hand  and  smoothed  the  tangled  hair  from  his  fore 
head,  while  she  asked  how  he  had  been,  and  if  he 
wouldn't  be  well  soon,  and  told  him  how  lonely  they 
all  were  without  him. 

"Ophelia,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "is  papa  well?" 

Ophelia  looked  at  him  sadly.  "No,  Walter;  papa 
will  never  be  well  in  this  world  any  more." 

"Is  he  dead,  Ophelia?" 

"Yes,  Walter,  papa  is  dead." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause. 
"  Heaven  is  a  beautiful  place,  Ophelia,  and  all  are 
happy  there.  I  saw  it  in  my  dream  one  night,  and  papa 
was  there." 

"Was  it  like  a  golden  city,  Walter,  with  golden 
streets?" 

"No,"  said  Walter,  shaking  his  head.  "It  was  like 
no  city,  unless  there  could  be  a  city  of  palaces  and 
parks,  with,  oh  !  the  grandest,  grandest  trees,  and  broad 
savannahs,  with  most  beautiful  flowers  and  streams  of 
water.  Oh,  I  could  never,  never  describe  it  !  And 
every  one  was  so  kind  to  me  there,  Ophelia,  I  think  I 
shall  remember  that  dream  all  my  life,  and  shall  be 
willing  to  bear  with  any  hardship  if  I  may  at  last  find 
a  home  in  that  beautiful,  happy  place." 


262  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"I  had  such  a  dream  as  that  once,  Walter,  when  I 
was  no  larger  than  you,  and  it  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  me  at  the  time  ;  but  when  I  got  out  into  the  world 
the  impressions  soon  wore  off,  and  I  was  but  little  better 
than  before.  It  is  easy  for  you  to  set  resolutions  now, 
and  while  there  are  no  temptations  it  seems  easy  to  keep 
them  ;  but,  Walter,  there  are  many  trials  before  you  of 
which  you  do  not  dream.  Let  us  promise  each  other 
now  to  try  to  love  the  great  God  in  whose  hands  are 
our  hearts,  and  to  live  in  subjection  to  his  divine  laws." 

Walter  readily  promised ;  strong  in  faith  because 
untried,  and  undaunted  by  the  memory  of  past  failures. 

What !  give  up  an  eternity  of  paradise  for  the  brief 
pleasures  of  this  brief  life?  Never!  And  yet,  dear 
Walter,  these  "brief  pleasures,"  when  placed  within 
the  reach  of  our  own  hands,  with  the  joys  of  that 
heavenly  Eden  dim  and  far  away,  entice  with  a  strength 
which  only  Deity  can  overcome. 

Walter  recovered  and  went  back  to  his  studies  and 
old  companions ;  soon  the  shadow  passed  from  off  his 
young  life,  and  all  things  went  on  the  same  in  the 
Berges  household,  except  the  quiet  coming  and  going 
of  the  master. 

Though  Ophelia  wore  a  guarded  countenance,  secretly 
she  repined  over  the  gloominess  of  her  lot.  The  days 
seemed  empty  and  lone.  She  looked  around  among  her 
associates,  whose  lives  seemed  so  full  of  good  things,  and 
in  her  heart  complained  that  her  sentence  was  unjust. 

"I  crave  no  vain  and  idle  pleasures:  only  such 
blessings  as  strengthen  the  soul,  —  love,  friendship, 
congenial  companionship, — without  which  life  is  a 
burden." 

And  so,  although  her  friends  saw  her  pursuing  her 
accustomed  duties  with  apparent  resignation,  her  heart 
held  no  such  gentle  emotions,  and  her  days  and  nights 
were  spoiled  with  bitter  repining. 

One  night,  only  a  few  months  after  her  father's  death, 
she  awoke  from  a  dream  of  smothering  and  oppression 


ENUMERATING    ONES  BLESSINGS.         263 

to  find  herself  almost  suffocated  with  smoke.  A  tall 
man  in  the  fireman's  uniform  stood  over  her,  shaking 
her  and  calling,  "Awake!  awake!  The  house  is  in 
flames;  you  will  be  burned  to  death  !" 

She  stared  at  him  in  bewildered  alarm. 

"  Madam,  you  must  excuse  me,  but  if  we  remain  here 
longer  both  of  us  will  be  lost."  And  he  snatched  her 
from  the  bed  and  dashed  into  the  thick  cloud  of  smoke 
and  flames.  She  clung  to  him  desperately.  She  clasped 
her  arms  tightly  about  his  neck  and  hid  her  face  against 
his  bosom.  What  a  pity  it  was  not  one  of  her  lovers  ! 
But  our  plain,  ordinary  lover  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury  is  not  wont  to  be  wandering  around  his  divinity's 
residence  at  unseemly  hours  on  the  alert  for  an  oppor 
tunity  to  distinguish  himself  in  her  service ;  and  the 
only  person  in  the  city  whom  Ophelia  had  a  right  to 
distinguish  by  that  title,  Mr.  Hal  Ripley,  lay  calmly 
reposing  in  his  own  comfortable  chamber,  while  an  un- 
romantic  fireman  appropriated  his  opportunity  for  res 
cuing  his  beloved  from  the  "jaws  of  death." 

He  deposited  his  burden  upon  the  ground,  unclasped 
the  clinging  arms  with  rather  impolite  haste,  exclaim 
ing  to  the  group  standing  around,  "Here!  some  of 
you  take  care  of  this  lady,"  and  was  gone  before  she 
had  time  to  note  his  features  or  murmur  thanks. 

"Oh,  mamma  and  Walter!  where  are  they?"  she 
cried,  clasping  her  hands,  and  shivering  in  her  thin 
drapery.  One  gentleman  stepped  out  from  the  group, 
who  divided  their  curious  attention  between  her  and 
the  burning  house ;  and  while  he  assured  her  that  Mrs. 
Berges  and  Walter  were  safe  and  well  cared  for,  drew 
off  his  overcoat  and  fastened  it  around  her  shoulders. 
This  was  another  unromantic  party:  a  middle-aged 
gentleman  with  a  brawny,  leather-colored  countenance 
and  an  unsympathetic*"  look ;  but  Ophelia  gratefully 
accepted  his  services,  and  allowed  herself  to  be  placed 
in  a  wagon  and  driven  to  the  house  of  the  friend  who 
had  sheltered  Mrs.  Berges  and  Walter. 


264  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Mrs.  Berges  had  secured  her  jewels  and  all  her  im 
portant  papers,  before  she  remembered  to  send  some  one 
to  look  after  Ophelia.  These  things  attended  to,  she 
sat  calmly  down  to  the  investigation  of  the  insurance 
policies,  to  assure  herself  that  she  sustained  no  pecuni 
ary  loss.  Walter  seemed  in  a  profound  study,  taking 
note  of  nothing  that  was  going  on  around  him,  while 
Ophelia  wept  silently  for  her  lost  home.  Now,  indeed, 
was  she  bereaved  ;  she  had  no  home.  There  was  not 
one  spot  in  the  whole  world  upon  which  she  had  the 
slightest  claim.  "Here,"  she  exclaimed,  "my  mis 
fortunes  end,  for  there  is  nothing  left  me  that  may 
be  taken." 

As  soon  as  was  practicable,  Mrs.  Berges  proceeded 

to  arrange  her  affairs.  She  wanted  to  leave  L and 

take  Walter  to  St.  Louis,  where  together  they  would 
find  a  comfortable  home  with  her  brother.  As  for 
Ophelia,  she  would  give  her  the  five  thousand  which 
her  papa  had  always  intended  for  her  marriage  portion, 
— that  would  keep  her  comfortably  until  her  marriage. 
Perhaps  she  wouldn't  be  so  choice  now.  She  would 
be  glad  to  take  her  along,  she  told  Ophelia,  but  she 
couldn't  think  of  burdening  her  brother  with  such  a 
family. 

"  How  beautiful  and  touching,"  exclaims  the  writer, 
"is  the  devotion  of  a  mother!"  Clouds  of  vapory 
sentiment  have  been  formed  around  this  nucleus.  Oh, 
yes !  How  beautiful  and  touching  is  the  devotion 
of  the  goose,  who  will  fight  everything  off  from  the 
good  things  of  life  except  her  own  dear  goslings,  and 
hiss  and  bite  every  other  young  thing  which  ventures 
to  come  that  way  ! 

Shame  on  the  mother  who  can  find  room  only  for 
her  own  children  in  her  narrow  heart ! 

Not  that  Ophelia  found  fault  with  her  adopted 
mamma's  proceedings:  she  thanked  her  for  her  benefi 
cent  gift,  and  immediately  secured  a  room  at  a  private 
boarding-house,  and  prepared  to  make  herself  as  com- 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  BLESSINGS.          265 

fortable  as  was  possible  under  the  circumstances.  Her 
"five  thousand"  was  in  notes  which  Mrs/ Berges  se 
lected  and  placed  in  her  hands,  and  which  Ophelia 
handed  over  to  the  lawyer  whom  her  father  had  always 
employed  for  collection.  The  old  gentleman  looked 
them  over  slowly  and  with  an  imperturbable  counte 
nance.  "You  call  this  five  thousand  dollars,  do  you?" 
he  exclaimed,  satirically.  "You  want  the  money  col 
lected  and  deposited  in  the  bank?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Ophelia. 

He  gathered  them  all  into  one  hand,  and  slapping 
them  upon  the  table,  exclaimed,  "  They  are  not  worth 
five  hundred!"  Ophelia  stared  in  silence.  "They 
are  notes  of  hand  for  borrowed  money  upon  indi 
viduals  who  have  decamped  or  are  bankrupts.  Mrs. 
Berges  certainly  knew  that  they  were  utterly  worth 
less.  It  may  be  that  I  can  get  three  hundred  out  of 
the  whole  lot,  but  it  is  impossible  that  I  should  get 
more." 

He  handed  them  back,  but  Ophelia  declined  to  take 
them.  "Do  what  you  can  with  them,"  she  returned, 
"and  pay  yourself  for  the  trouble." 

He  took  the  notes  and  departed,  and  Ophelia  sat 
down  to  the  contemplation  of  her  future.  Now  was 
all  the  good  of  her  life  spent,  and  only  the  worthless 
rind  remained,  fit  only  to  be  cast  away.  But  life  was 
forced  upon  her  whether  she  willed  or  not ;  and  there 
was  no  alternative  left  but  to  take  up  its  burdens  and 
plod  on  to  the  end.  She  must  make  some  effort — how 
hateful  the  task  ! — to  support  herself.  She  must  humble 
her  pride  and  petition  her  former  associates  for  their 
assistance. 

Her  only  available  talent  was  music.  She  must  pro 
cure  a  music-class.  It  is  useless  to  go  the  rounds  with 
poor  Ophelia,  or  relate  how  this  one  was  "so  sorry,. 
but  had  already  engaged  a  teacher,"  or  how  that  one 
had  "  taken  a  resolution  to  have  none  but  German 
teachers,  which  she  was  grieved,  indeed,  that  she  could 

M  23 


2 66  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

not  break  in  favor  of  her  dear  friend,"  and  another 
"had  not  -yet  made  up  her  mind  whether  she  would 
have  a  teacher  this  year  or  not,"  or  how  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  their  "sweet  friend,"  and  how  entirely 
helpless  to  assist  her,  were  these  people. 

There  is  nothing  either  pleasing  or  poetic  in  this  sort 
of  work.  Besides,  I  want  to  feel  magnanimous  and 
philanthropic  to-day;  and  if  I  go  to  delving  too  deep 
into  the  general  characteristics  of  humanity,  I  shall  be 
wanting  to  drill  a  hole  through  the  centre  of  this  "ter 
restrial  ball,"  and  blast  the  whole  concern  into  the  sub 
lime  infinitude  of  nothing;  and  that,  you  will  allow, 
would  not  be  the  quintessence  of  charity. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  among  the  whole  of  her  "  dear 
five  hundred  friends"  she  procured  six  music  scholars 
(two  of  whom  never  paid  her).  She  began  upon  her  task 
with  the  utmost  distaste,  which  was  not  diminished  by 
experience.  Ophelia  was  not  composed  of  the  most 
durable  material,  and,  before  long,  harassing  cares  and 
the  tediousness  of  unaccustomed  labor  began  to  tell 
upon  her  physique.  Dr.  Hughes,  who  was  now  her 
only  real,  serviceable  friend,  observed  the  change  and 
advised  a  cessation  from  all  distasteful  employment. 
He  had  heard  of  Mrs.  Berges's  munificence,  and  had 
no  idea  that  her  occupation  was  compulsory. 

Ophelia  declined  resting,  and  plodded  on  with  her 
dreary  work.  It  is  true,  some  young  ladies  would  have 
found  Ophelia's  task  an  easy  one ;  but  her  previous 
luxurious,  indolent  life  had  unfitted  her  for  any  sort  of 
toil.  That,  perhaps,  is  why  we  see  the  children  of 
wealth  descending  so  swiftly  to  poverty  upon  an  income 
that  would  be  affluence  to  the  industrious  managing 
children  of  the  poor. 

At  last  Ophelia  grew  ill ;  but  it  only  lasted  a  few 
days.  She  would  never  fall  into  ill  health  without  a 
desperate  resistance.  But  her  appetite  was  gone,  and 
nothing  could  restore  it ;  her  strength,  too,  was  upon 
the  wane.  She  determined  she  would  not  fall  into  ill 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  BLESSINGS.         267 

health.  She  would  take  more  exercise,  go  more  into 
society,  and  be  more  cheerful  and  contented. 

Her  efforts  at  cheerfulness  were  fitful,  and  the  new 
face  which  society  now  turned  toward  her  was  not  such 
as  is  calculated  to  inspire  hilarity  or  content.  At  last 
she  fell  back  upon  books  and  the  sofa  for  recreation ; 
which,  with  short  walks, — which  tired  her, — and  her 
music-lessons,  —  which  had  become  unbearably  dis 
tasteful, — consumed  the  most  of  her  time.  The  re 
mainder  she  was  obliged  to  employ  in  attending  to  her 
wardrobe,  which  was  by  no  means  as  extensive  as  form 
erly. 

An  invalid  !  Heavens !  she  would  start  up  with  a 
sudden  access  of  indignant  resistance,  and  vow  that  she 
would  not  submit  to  the  slow,  insidious  encroachment 
of  disease.  There  was  no  use  in  being  sick  if  one  had 
the  spirit  to  will  it  otherwise.  She  would  dash  out  for 
a  walk  and  come  back  with  a  wearied  air  and  languid 
step,  her  anger  and  her  strength  all  gone. 

"You  will  not  take  my  advice,"  said  Herve,  re 
proachfully.  "  It  will  not  take  you  long  to  worry  your 
self  into  your  grave  at  this  rate." 

"I  am  not  anxious  about  protracting  my  life,"  was 
her  reply;  "it  is  not  so  gay." 

"  If  it  is  your  purpose  to  commit  suicide,"  returned 
Herve,  sternly,  "you  have  struck  upon  a  sure  method." 

"  My  good  friend,"  she  returned,  with  a  smile,  "do 
you  imagine  that  I  continue  to  work  when  I  know  that 
I  need  rest,  from  mere  obstinacy?  I  work  because  it 
is  necessary  for  my  support ;  I  might  as  well  work  my 
self  to  death  as  starve." 

"  I  thought  you  had  money,"  he  replied,  in  aston 
ishment.  "  I  was  told  that  Mrs.  Berges  had  allowed  you 
a  considerable  sum  from  the  estate." 

"A  considerable  sum  in  notes,  which  yielded  about 
enough  to  pay  two  months'  board  and  incidental  ex 
penses." 

Herve  had  but  little  more  to  say,  and  left  early. 


268  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"Is  it  possible,"  thought  Ophelia,  with  a  sigh,  "that 
the  lack  of  money  can  change  me  in  his  estimation?" 

But  Herve  had  only  gone  home  to  think.  He  was 
not  quick  at  planning.  His  intellect,  like  most  pon 
derous  machinery,  was  slow  in  its  evolutions,  but  sure. 
Some  five  days  elapsed  before  he  had  attained  a  final 
conclusion,  and  a  desperate  one  it  was.  She  must 
marry.  Hers  was  not  the  character  or  disposition  to  be 
improved  by  rough  contact  with  the  world.  They  were 
hard,  unyielding  natures  which  received  a  higher  polish 
from  that  sort  of  friction ;  while  the  gentle  and  pliant 
are  wounded  and  hurt  by  harsh  experiences.  Ophelia 
was  a  Tvmnanly  woman ;  constituted  with  such  attributes 
as  are  developed  by  a  loving  and  refined  home  life. 
Publicity  was  distasteful  to  her ;  and  while  her  social 
instincts  were  strong, — so  strong  that  she  preferred  a  few 
near,  very  near,  friends  to  whom  she  could  unfold  her 
whole  mind,  to  a  great  number  of  lukewarm  acquaint 
ances, — she  was  deficient  in  that  grand  magnanimity  of 
soul  (so  seldom  a  feminine  attribute)  which  charac 
terizes  the  noblest  type  of  human  being,  the  philan 
thropist.  Home  was  Ophelia's  peculiar  province,  and 
there  was  but  one  method  by  which  she  could  obtain 
that  and  the  social  position  to  which  she  had  been 
bred, — marriage.  And,  as  a  preliminary  step  toward 
this  end,  Herve  offered  himself;  not  that  he  had  any 
hope  of  being  accepted,  but  it  was  a  step,  even  though 
it  failed. 

Ophelia  stared  in  undisguised  astonishment  at  his 
deliberate,  business-like  proposal ;  but  there  was  an 
earnestness,  too,  in  his  manner  which  made  it  impossi 
ble  to  treat  it  lightly.  "  The  idea,  I  know,  is  new  and 
strange  to  you,"  he  said.  "  It  had  never  entered  your 
mind  before,  consequently  I  would  not  expect  you  to 
love  me  very  much  at  first.  The  esteem  you  are  so 
good  as  to  accord  me,  of  your  own  free  will,  and  the 
right  to  take  care  of  you  and  make  you  happy,  would 
be  an  ample  return  for  my  own  devotion  ;  I  could  trust 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  JSLESSINGS. 


269 


to  time  and  your  naturally  loving  disposition  for  a  deepei 
affection.  You  understand  my  character  sufficiently 
by  this  time  to  know  that  I  had  studied  this  matter 
thoroughly,  and  settled  it,  in  my  own  mind,  beyond  a 
doubt,  before  speaking  of  it  to  you.  Therefore  you 
have  only  to  look  into  your  own  heart  and  follow  its 
promptings." 

Ophelia  was  not  quite  so  unembarrassed  as  Herve. 
As  she  met  his  earnest  look,  and  observed  how  he  sup 
pressed  every  exhibition  of  emotion  which  might  prove 
distasteful  to  her,  she  was  deeply  moved.  She  did  not 
speak  for  some  time,  but  her  face  told  of  a  struggle 
going  on  within.  At  length  it  grew  calm.  "  I  regret 
to  say,  my  dear  friend,  that  it  cannot  be.  I  am  going 
to  give  you  the  strongest  proof  of  my  esteem  that  I 
could  possibly  give,  by  telling  you  why."  She  paused 
a  moment  and  her  face  took  on  a  deeper  flush.  "  There 
is  another,  less  worthy,  I  fear,  who  has,  by  some  means, 
enslaved  my  heart.  I  regret  it  !  There  is  no  need  of 
my  telling  you  how  hard  I  struggled  against  it ;  for  it 
is  a  shameful  thing,  you  know,  for  a  woman  to  bestow 
her  love  where  it  is  not  wanted." 

"  Not  wanted  /"  exclaimed  Herve,  his  face  catching 
some  of  the  color  of  her  own.  "  His  actions  forced  it 
upon  you  against  your  will.  I  hate  that  man  sometimes ; 
such  villains  ought  to  be  crushed  out  of  existence. 
They  are  but  a  trouble  and  a  disgrace  to  the  human 
race. ' '  He  stopped  suddenly,  for  Ophelia  was  trembling 
violently.  "Good  heavens!  I  am  a  brute!  I  was 
scarcely  conscious  of  what  I  was  saying."  He  turned 
away  and  walked  the  full  length  of  the  rooms,  and 
when  he  returned  Ophelia  had  regained  her  usual 
composure. 

"  My  nerves  are  not  in  the  best  of  order,  I  think," 
she  said,  with  a  little  laugh,  which  had  not  the  slightest 
spark  of  mirthfulness  in  it.  "The  slightest  jar  sets 
them  all  astir." 

"  I  should  not  have  said  what  I  did,"  returned  Herve. 
23* 


270 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


"  It  was  ungenerous,  and  I  did  him  great  injustice,  for 
he  has  some  noble  qualities.  There  must  be  some  good 
in  him,  or  he  could  never  have  obtained  so  high  a  place 
in  your  esteem."  He  smothered  his  jealousy  to  the 
best  of  his  ability,  and  said  all  that  he  could  in  his 
rival's  favor,  and  then  went  away  with  a  heavy  heart. 
He  had  no  faith  in  Kingsley.  He  had  watched  his 
movements  covertly,  and  had  discovered  his  penchant 
for  Ophelia ;  but  he  believed  him  to  be  engaged  to 
Louise  Benton. 

Herve  did  not  return  for  a  long  time,  and  though 
Ophelia  knew  that  he  was  waiting  for  the  affair  to  die 
out  from  her  memory,  she  missed  him  sadly.  No  one 
said  now,  "You  are  an  angel,  Ophelia;"  and  now 
she  struggled  harder  against  the  evil  of  her  nature,  and 
it  seemed  with  less  effect  than  ever  before.  She  never 
knew  before  the  real  extent  of  her  own  heart's  wicked 
ness.  In  the  old  luxurious,  petted  life,  she  had  never 
felt  the  slightest  touch  of  envy  or  jealousy ;  but  now 
that  she  saw  her  old  associates  in  their  gay  prosperity 
passing  her  by,  unmindful  of  her  trials  and  cares,  she 
could  not  suppress  a  feeling  of  bitterness.  When  she 
had  used  to  roll  along  the  streets  in  her  father's  carriage, 
she  was  full  of  pity  for  the  toilers  without ;  but  now 
that  she  was  brought  nearer  them,  there  was  no  pity  in 
her  heart.  "They  are  hardened,"  she  thought,  "and 
do  not  suffer." 

In  her  prosperity,  when  there  was  but  little  to  try  her 
temper,  she  was  serene  and  sympathetic ;  now  she  was 
morose  and  unsocial.  She  shuddered  at  every  knock 
upon  the  door,  and  drew  a  breath  of  relief  when  the 
unwelcome  intruder  was  gone.  Moral  and  mental 
gloom  enveloped  her  and  clung  to  her  soul  with  the 
tenacity  of  physical  disease.  Life  had  become  hateful 
to  her,  and  her  fellow-creatures  intolerable. 

Did  she,  in  these  trying  times,  forget  that  God,  the 
Father,  was  wise  and  good,  and  full  of  mercy  and  com 
passion  ?  I  fear  that  she  did  sometimes.  But  she  was 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  BLESSINGS. 


271 


never  driven  to  that  desperate  pass  which  the  irreligious 
oftentimes  come  upon  in  the  hour  of  adversity  ;  she 
never  hated  him,  never  even  felt  her  love  for  him 
diminished.  But  she  did  feel  reproachful,  and  that  he 
had  forsaken  her  without  cause  ;  at  least  without  further 
cause  than  other  of  her  fellow-creatures  were  giving 
every  day. 

She  could  not  afford  to  give  up  her  faith  in  him. 
It  was  her  only  comfort.  And  then  she  had  read  : 
"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chastiseth,  and  scourgeth 
every  son  whom  he  receiveth."  But  that  did  not 
lessen  her  trials,  nor  render  them  any  the  easier  to 
endure. 

She  had  been  compelled  to  remove  to  a  cheaper  and 
less  comfortable  boarding-house,  and  even  here  her  ex 
penses  bore  heavily  upon  her  mind.  Such  ugly,  cark- 
ing  cares  as  these  are  sometimes  too  much  for  the  en 
durance  of  man,  with  his  hardier  physique,  his  broader 
knowledge  of  the  world  with  which  he  has  to  deal,  and 
the  many  avenues  which  are  open  to  him  should  his 
prime  dependence  fail ;  think  what  it  must  be  to  a 
timid  woman,  to  whom  "  the  world  "  is  a  frightful,  un 
known  spectre,  ready  to  crush  her  in  its  devouring  jaws 
if  she  strays  even  so  much  as  a  hair's-breadth  out  of 
the  way. 

Sometimes  Ophelia  felt  so  timid  and  alone,  so  scared 
at  the  great  world,  that,  accustomed  as  she  was  to  the 
publicity  of  city  life,  she  shrank  even  from  the  ordinary 
gaze  of  the  passer-by,  and  blushed  and  quivered  if  it 
was,  as  frequently  happened,  protracted  into  a  curious 
stare.  She  slept  little  and  ate  little,  but  kept  her  brain 
and  fingers  ceaselessly  at  work.  Already  she  looked 
worn  and  faded.  The  coarse  food,  miserably  prepared, 
palled  upon  her  taste,  and  she  grew  thinner  and  thinner 
from  an  insufficiency  of  wholesome  nourishment. 

Her  former  opulent  associates  now  scarcely  ever  per 
ceived  her  when  they  passed  her  upon  the  street ;  and 
never  visited  her  any  more,  she  had  become  "so 


272  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

strange  and  unsocial,"  they  said.  Hal  Ripley  passed 
her  with  a  polite,  indifferent  bow  :  divested  of  her  fine 
clothes  and  her  high  position,  she  was  no  longer  at 
tractive  to  this  gay  young  nabob;  and  a  rumor  had 
reached  Ophelia  that  he  was  now  entirely  devoted  to 
the  pretty,  pert,  and  wealthy  Miss  Fischer.  She  was 
not  disappointed  or  hurt ;  her  opinion  of  Hal  remained 
the  same  as  it  had  always  been. 

One  evening  Herve  persuaded  her  to  accompany  him 
to  a  party  at  Mrs.  Harper's.  She  had  worn  her  mourn 
ing  two  seasons,  and  really  she  needed  something  to 
rouse  her  from  her  unhappy  mood.  She  had  always 
liked  Mrs.  Harper,  and  so  she  accepted  the  invitation. 
Ophelia  was  not  one  of  those  persons  whose  spirits  are 
elated  or  depressed  according  to  the  magnificence  or 
plainness  of  their  attire,  and  so  she  wore  the  same  air 
of  serene  dignity  in  her  plain  mourning  as  she  had 
worn  in  her  costly  toilettes.  They  were  a  little  late, 
and  their  entrance  was  unmarked  save  by  the  cordial 
hostess. 

With  what  a  changed  mind  Ophelia  observed  the 
crowd  !  She  could  not  summon  a  single  answering 
smile  for  her  affable,  joyous  acquaintances.  But  sud 
denly  the  coldness  of  her  deportment  passed  away  and 
all  her  countenance  changed.  Herve,  observing  it,  and 
looking  about  for  the  cause,  encountered  the  vivid  dark 
eyes  of  Kingsley. 

Back  again  ?  Yes,  there  he  was,  with  the  old  intense 
look,  and  the  old  indifferent  air,  as  if  he  knew  his 
power  over  her,  but  had  no  curiosity  as  to  its  extent. 
And  the  old  thralldom  resumed  its  sway ;  and  the 
fetters,  falling  into  the  old  groove,  wounded  and  hurt 
her  sorely,  and  revived  all  the  old  pain.  It  was  neces 
sary  now  that  she  should  talk,  that  she'  should  force 
her  attention  upon  something;  and  so  earnestly  and 
forcibly  did  she  plunge  into  the  subject  which  an  intel 
ligent  gentleman  had  been  vainly  urging  upon  her 
attention,  that  he  changed  his  mind  about  fulfilling  an 


ENUMERATING    ONE'S  3LESSINGS. 


273 


imaginary  engagement  in  another  portion  of  the  house 
and  remained. 

They  went  home  early,  at  Ophelia's  request ;  she  did 
not  sit  down  to  indulge  or  battle  with  her  emotions, 
but,  midnight  as  it  was,  plunged  into  a  cold  water  bath. 
Nothing  like  cold  water  for  an  attack  of  fever  or  love  ! 
After  this  she  drew  on  a  loose  robe  and  sat  down  to 
her  writing-table  and  wrote  until  dawn.  It  was  only 
some  neglected  letters  she  was  answering ;  Ophelia  was 
not  literary,  and  could  only  write  pleasant  letters, — no 
thing  more.  At  dawn  she  threw  open  the  window  and 
let  in  a  stream  of  the  softest-tinted  twilight.  She 
leaned  out  of  the  window  and  looked  toward  the  east, 
where  the  gentle  Aurora  began  to  show  her  roseate  face. 
"Ah,  I  did  not  know  the  world  was  so  beautiful !"  she 
exclaimed,  with  her  hands  pressed  upon  her  breast  in 
a  sort  of  ecstasy.  Never  before  had  she  seen  the  sun 
rise. 

Suddenly  she  withdrew  herself  and  hastily  closed  her 
window.  The  individual  from  whom,  throughout  the 
whole  night,  she  had  forcibly  restrained  her  thoughts, 
presented  himself  visibly,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  had 
made  her  a  profound  bow  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street.  Ophelia  contemplated  her  flowing  robe  and 
disheveled  locks  with  a  burning  cheek.  And  then  she 
knelt  down  to  a  very  bitter  prayer, — the  strangest  prayer 
she  had  ever  offered  up.  "What  need  of  this?"  she 
cried,  after  the  manner  of  general  humanity,  who  choose 
to  question  the  ways  of  Providence  and  urge  reform 
upon  the  Almighty.  "  To  what  purpose  do  I  suffer  and 
struggle?  Who  is  benefited  by  it?" 

For  the  sake  of  justice,  it  is  necessary  here  to  explain 
that  Kingsley  did  not  know  the  extent  of  the  damage 
he  had  wrought  within  Ophelia's  heart.  He  felt  some 
uncomfortable  pangs  himself,  and  complained  loudly 
against  his  fate ;  but  she,  the  cool,  the  impenetrable, 
plaeid  creature,  was  it  likely  that  she  cared  whether 
he  came  or  went,  lived  or  died  ?  No,  it  was  not  at  all 
M* 


274 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


likely;  and  then  he  grumbled  and  almost  cursed  him 
self  for  a  fool  that  he  found  it  impossible  to  keep  his 
thoughts  away  from  her,  and  was  more  devoted  than 
ever  to  Louise  Benton, — the  affectionate  little  Louise, — 
who  was  so  very  kind  to  him,  but  who,  if  he  had  only 
known  the  truth,  had  not  one  tithe  the  heart-power 
possessed  by  Ophelia. 

From  this  time  forth  Ophelia's  health  declined. 
"You  must  take  some  medicine,"  said  the  young  phy 
sician,  her  friend.  "You  look  haggard.  I  was  shocked 
at  the  change  in  your  looks  in  the  last  few  days.  It  has 
become  a  positive  necessity  that  you  should  take  medi 
cine." 

Ophelia  had  a  horror  of  medicine, — she  had  taken 
so  little  in  her  life.  If  she  began  to  take  medicine,  that 
was  to  give  up  to  being  sick ;  so  she  plodded  on  with 
her  music-lessons  and  other  duties  as  long  as  her  feet 
would  carry  her.  Often  she  met  Kingsley.  Sometimes 
he  pretended  not  to  see  her ;  at  others  he  spoke  to  and 
looked  at  her,  with  all  the  feeling  it  was  possible  for  a 
human  countenance  to  reveal  in  his  face.  If  she  con 
quered  herself  and  obtained  a  temporary  indifference, 
one  of  these  vivid  glances  brought  back  all  the  old 
emotions  with  a  force  that  was  overwhelming. 

For  a  long  time  she  kept  up  a  show  of  cheerfulness 
and  serenity,  but  her  continued  struggles  and  trials 
were  not  without  effect ;  and  she  gave  it  up  at  last  and 
placed  her  head  upon  the  pillow  from  whence  it  might 
never  rise.  She  hoped  it  might  be  so.  There  were 
pains  in  her  head,  her  shoulders,  and  all  her  limbs.  It 
was  rest,  absolute  rest,  to  be  afflicted  bodily.  It  drew 
her  mind  away  from  the  thoughts,  the  wearying,  ever- 
surging  thoughts,  which  had  tortured  her  for  so  long. 

She  did  not  send  for  a  physician,  but  her  landlady 
did;  and  it  was  not  long  before  Dr.  Hughes  was  in  her 
room  portioning  out  powders  and  lotions,  and  scolding 
her  for  having  been  so  obstinate.  She  was  a  little  too 
sick  to  care  for  his  being  there,  and  took  everything  he 


ENUMERATING    ONES  BLESSINGS. 


275 


gave  her  without  the  slightest  protest.  Pain  did  not 
make  her  petulant  but  humble,  and  she  was  as  sub 
missive  as  a  conquered  child. 

Under  the  skillful  treatment  of  her  good  physician, 
Ophelia  did  not  suffer  long  ;  and  when  she  became  con 
valescent  he  was  not  allowed  to  come  so  often.  During 
her  illness  she  had  become  a  little  better  acquainted 
with  herself  and  with  the  strong  Power  which  had  op 
posed  her  will ;  and  then  she  confessed  that  her  knowl 
edge  of  God  had  been  "by  the  hearing  of  the  ear." 
But  now  she  saw  him  in  truth,  and  repented  of  her 
pride  and  rebellion.  She  had  tried  to  make  her  own 
road  to  happiness,  and  had  complained  because  of  the 
impediments  which  would  not  yield  to  her  will.  "  He 
that  reproveth  God,  let  him  answer  it."  Her  answer 
was,  utter  submission  to  his  will. 

I  begin  to  wonder  how  good  you  are,  John,  and  to 
fear  that  you  have  not  "made  your  peace  with  God." 
We  cannot  live  always,  you  know, — nor  have  /any  de 
sire  to  live  always,  because  I  look  forward  to  a  life  far, 
far  more  pleasing  and  satisfactory. 

Yet  I  do  not  want  to  go  just  yet, — even  though  I 
knew  to  a  certainty  that  I  should  step  into  a  golden 
palace  and  elysium, — because  I  fear  that  I  should  go 
alone.  Even  in  the  Land  of  the  Blest,  I  do  not  think 
I  could  divest  myself  of  a  vain  regret  that,  coming  so 
near  you,  John,  I  had  not  lain  forcible  hands  on  you 
and  taken  you  with  me,  whether  or  no.  I  have  come 
to  like  you  so  well  that  I  cannot  see  how  I  am  to  be 
content  in  that  other  land  if  you  are  not  there  too.  I 
charge  you,  John,  be  faithful,  patient,  and  loving,  and 
all  will  be  well. 


276  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

COERCION   AND    PERSUASION. 

HERVE  did  not  take  his  refusal  much  to  heart,  it 
seemed.  He  continued  to  visit  Ophelia,  and  to  do  what 
he  could  to  make  her  life  a  little  brighter. 

One  evening  as  he  passed  the  little  house  on  C 

Street,  where  Ophelia  boarded,  he  was  surprised  to  see 
Kingsley  coming  out.  He  had  a  cigar  in  his  hand  and 
paused  upon  the  step  to  light  it.  He  looked  so  com 
plaisant,  so  self-satisfied,  as  he  sauntered  off  down  the 
street,  that  our  sturdy  young  Achilles  had  much  ado  to 
keep  from  following  and  bestowing  upon  him  a  forcible 
experience  of  the  "chastening  rod." 

He  looked  after  him  a  moment,  but  as  he  immedi 
ately  turned  a  corner  and  disappeared  from  view,  he 
changed  his  mind  and  entered  the  house  his  rival  had 
just  left. 

The  parlor  door  was  slightly  ajar,  and  seeing  Ophelia 
still  sitting  there,  by  the  window,  he  was  about  to 
enter,  when  something  peculiar  in  her  attitude  arrested 
his  step  upon  the  threshold.  -He  did  not  pause  long, 
however,  for  he  soon  perceived  that  she  was  utterly  tin- 
conscious.  He  was  not  slow  in  arousing  her,  and  as 
she  opened  her  sorrowful  eyes  upon  him  she  smiled 
mournfully,  as  if  the  consciousness  of  his  tender,  loving 
pity  soothed  and  comforted  her. 

Herve  dared  not  look  upon  this  picture  too  long. 
The  thought  that  this  noble,  Christian  woman  should 
be  made  the  toy  and  plaything,  the  very  slave,  of 
such  a  man,  excited  within  him  a  degree  of  wrathful 
indignation  that  was  almost  beyond  his  control.  He 
knew — oh,  yes,  Herve  knew — how  this  state  of  affairs 
was  kept  up  by  Kingsley's  own  determined  will,  and 


COERCION  AND   PERSUASION.  277 

that  to  satisfy  his  own  vanity;  careless  that  the  "infi 
nite  sickness  of  heart"  which  caused  the  Greek  Penelope 
to  long  to  be  snatched  away  into  nothingness,  rather 
than  to  be  tormented  longer  by  the  anguish  of  hopeless 
love,  was  her  portion.  But  Herve  did  not  know  that 
"this  state  of  affairs,"  so  plain  to  him,  was  utterly  un 
known 'to  Kingsley ;  and  that,  while  he  stood  upon  the 
steps  so  complaisantly,  lighting  his  cigar,  he  was  almost 
mad  with  jealousy  and  disappointment. 

Herve  did  not  remain  long,  and  an  hour  after  he 
entered  a  restaurant  where  several  young  men  of  his 
acquaintance  were  seated  around  a  table,  whereon  was 
spread  a  symposium  of  salmon  and  hot  coffee.  They 
were  .enjoying  themselves  it  seemed  ;  not  noisily,  for 
they  were  all  well-bred  young  men,  but  merrily  enough 
nevertheless. 

"There's  the  doctor,"  cried  out  one,  "the  rising 
young  physician.  Come,  Hughes,  you  are  usually  a 
very  selfish  fellow,  but  we  will  not  take  a  refusal  this 
time.  Here,  waiter, — another  plate." 

A  chair  was  passed  for  him  between  his  cordial  host 
and  the  only  man  he  hated.  He  accepted  the  invita 
tion  with  a  polite  "thank  you"  and  turned  a  cold 
shoulder  upon  Kingsley. 

"  You  are  surely  acquainted  with  Kingsley,  Hughes?" 
said  Hal  Ripley  from  across  the  table.  His  dislike 
for  that  young  gentleman  seemed  to  have  moderated 
somewhat. 

"  As  much  as  I  care  to  be,"  was  the  blunt  reply. 

"Indeed!  Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  Kingsley, 
staring  with  easy  insolence.  "  I  had  thought  the  whole 
world  must  be  mad  to  know  me.  I  wonder  if  our 
'  rising  young  physician'  couldn't  be  induced  to  say 
a  little  more  in  that  strain  ;  I  love  to  be  reviled,  it  is 
new  and  exciting." 

"I  may  have  something  to  say  to  you  presently," 
returned  Hughes,  not  having  yet  glanced  at  him. 

"  '  Coffee  and  pistols  for  two,'  I  wonder  ?  or  a  dun  ; 
24 


278  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

I'm  out  of  money  remember,  if  it's  a  dun.  Or  per 
haps — sure  enough,  we  are  rivals  !  The  pretty  Ophelia." 

"  Sir!"  exclaimed  Herve,  looking  him  sternly  in  the 
eye,  "  if  you  will  have  the  patience  to  wait,  I  will 
satisfy  you  as  to  what  I  want  with  you.  My  respect 
for  the  lady  you  mention  prevents  my  discussing  her 
publicly  with  such  a  person." 

Kingsley's  eye  flashed,  and  his  swarthy  countenance 
blanched.  "  I  was  wrong,  indeed,  you  say  well,  to 
confer  upon  you  such  an  honor." 

"  Gentlemen,"  exclaimed  a  quiet,  gentlemanly-look 
ing  young  man,  "you  forget  this  is  no  drinking- 
saloon  ;  this  conduct  is  a  poor  return  for  Middleton's 
hospitality.  I  hope  you  will  postpone  your  private 
quarrels  until  some  more  suitable  occasion." 

Neither  of  the  gentlemen  made  a  reply,  and  a  silence 
and  restraint  fell  upon  the  group ;  until  Kingsley, 
taking  a  card  from  his  pocket  and  writing  a  few  words 
upon  it,  handed  it  to  Herve,  and  in  a  very  gentlemanly 
manner  took  his  departure. 

The  next  we  see  of  the  two  rivals  they  have  met  in  a 
thick  wood,  a  few  miles  from  the  city. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Kingsley,  viewing  his  frowning 
opponent  with  a  smile,  "lam  here.  What  are  your 
charges?" 

"I  have  no  charges  to  make,"  returned  the  other, 
sternly ;  "  I  have  come  here  to  beat  a  little  of  the  mean 
ness  out  of  you,  if  that  is  possible." 

Kingsley  drew  forth  a  revolver,  —  still  gay  and 
smiling. 

"  The  weapon  of  a  coward  !"  sneered  Hughes.  "You 
may  murder  me  if  you  wish,  but  not  until  I  have  made 
you  suffer  as  you  deserve."  He  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon 
Kingsley's  shoulder.  "  I  am  going  to  administer  upon 
you  a  chastisement  you  have  long  stood  in  need  of;  I 
warn  you,  defend  yourself." 

Kingsley  threw  away  his  revolver  with  a  laugh,  and 
the  two  closed  in  a  desperate  hand-to-hand  battle. 


COERCION  AND  PERSUASION.  279 

I  do  not  like  fights,  John.  I  have  seen  very  few, 
and  would  not  feel  very  uncomfortable  if  I  had  seen 
none  at  all ;  and  it  does  not  please  me  to  go  through 
the  details  of  this  one  which  left  "Achilles"  bruised 
and  "  Hector"  like  a  rag. 

Herve  carried  his  senseless  antagonist  to  a  cottage 
hard  by.  "  He  has  been  beaten,"  was  his  explicit  reply 
to  the  inquiries  of  its  inmates.  He  placed  him  upon 
a  couch,  dressed  his  wounds,  and,  taking  a  vial  from 
his  pocket,  poured  its  contents  between  his  teeth ;  then 
he  sat  by  him  until  morning. 

In  the  gray  dawn  Kingsley  moaned,  turned  upon  his 
pillow,  and  opening  wide  his  dark  eyes,  fixed  them  upon 
the  watcher. 

For  a  moment  he  glared  at  him,  then  struggled  to 
rise.  Herve  went  to  him  and  placed  him  gently  back 
upon  the  pillow.  "Never  mind  about  it  now,  Kings- 
ley.  You  are  punished,  and  my  wrath  is  appeased.  It 
was  not  upon  my  own  account ;  you  know  why  I  wanted 
to  punish  you?" 

"We  were  rivals,"  returned  Kingsley,  sullenly.  "I 
know  of  no  other  cause." 

"We  are  not  rivals,"  returned  Herve,  gravely;  "my 
case  was  settled  long  ago, — that  is,  I  was  decisively  re 
jected.  I  think  if  you  will  search  your  mind  you  will 
find  a  more  plausible  reason.  And  for  that  purpose  I 
will  leave  you  to  a  few  days'  solitude."  He  had  a  little 
medicine-case,  from  which  he  was  apportioning  some 
powders  for  his  patient. 

"  I  tell  you,"  returned  the  other,  "  I  can  think  of  no 
other  cause  for  your  singular  conduct,  even  if  I  had  a 
thousand  years  to  reflect ;  unless  it  was  because  I  loved 
her  like  an  insane  idiot  as  I  have  been,  and  that  you 
wanted  to  clear  her  track  of  such  a  fool.  I  wish  you 
had  finished  your  work  !" 

"  If  you  love  her  as  you  profess,  why  do  you  not 
marry  her  ?" 

A  keen,  protracted  scrutiny,  and  then  Kingsley  made 


2go  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

answer  :  "  Hughes,  I  have  hated  you  until  now.  Since 
you  have  beaten  me,  I  believe  I  like  you  better.  I  de 
served  it,  no  doubt,  for  I  was  striving  to  make  her  love 
me,  when  I  had  solemnly  promised  her  father  that  I 
would  not.  I  hope  I  am  going  to  die,  for  I  am  tired 
to  death  of  this  life." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  die,"  returned  the  physician ; 
"  so  you  needn't  trouble  yourself  on  that  score." 

"  You  do  not  know  my  constitution.  I  never  ex 
pected  to  live  long.  Look  at  me.  Do  you  think  it  is 
probable  that  I  have  a  half-dozen  years  to  live  at  most? 
and  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  have  shortened  them." 

"  And  Ophelia?"  the  query  was  simple,  but  the  cool 
gray  eye  searched  his  interlocutor's  countenance 
keenly. 

"  Oh,  she  cares  nothing  for.  me,"  cried  the  other, 
impatiently.  "She  verbally  rejected  me  two  years  ago, 
and  has  managed  to  keep  me  at  a  distance,  by  her 
looks  and  actions,  ever  since.  You  are  a  good  fellow, 
Hughes, — even  when  I  hated  you  I  had  to  acknowl 
edge  that, — marry  her  and  take  her  clear  out  of  my 
sight.  If  she  does  not  love  you  it  is  because  she  can 
not  love." 

"It  is  because  she  loves you"  returned  Hughes, 
quietly.  He  did  not  look  up,  consequently  did  not 
see  the  sudden  life  which  sprang  into  the  other's  coun 
tenance.  "No,"  he  continued,  composedly,  "I  shall 
never  marry  any  one.  It  is  you  whom  Ophelia  loves, 
not  me.  Upon  you  depends  her  future  happiness.  And 
you  talk  about  dying  !" 

"The  seeds  of  consumption  are  here,  I  fear,"  re 
turned  Kingsley,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  breast. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  returned  Herve.  "I  have 
sounded  your  lungs, — they  are  strong.  You  are  deli 
cately  constituted,  but  there  is  no  disease  in  your  or 
ganization.  These  slender  frames  often  contain  the 
strongest  fibre.  I  see  no  reason  that  you  should  not 
serve  out  your  '  three-score  years  and  ten.' ' 


COERCION  AND   PERSUASION.  28l 

Kingsley  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  said  nothing. 

"It  is  not  for  the  love  of  you,  Kingsley,  understand, 
that  I  want  you  to  marry  Ophelia.  It  is  because  I  be 
lieve  her  life  depends  upon  it."  Herve  turned  away  as 
he  said  this,  as  if  to  leave  the  room. 

"You  are  in  earnest?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Herve,  curtly.  "Is  it  likely  that 
I  would  be  joking  upon  such  a  subject?" 

"Give  me  your  hand,  Hughes,"  returned  Kingsley, 
putting  out  his  with  a  countenance  beaming  with 
brotherly  love.  "  There  is  not  another  such  human 
being  in  existence,  I  know  !  You  are  so  much  more 
worthy  of  a  good  woman's  love  than  I ;  but  you  have 
misjudged  me;  yesterday  I  was  willing  that  you  should, 
but  now  I  value  your  good  opinion  and  will  justify  my 
self,  as  far  as  I  am  justifiable.  You  are  mistaken,  no 
doubt,  in  thinking  that  Ophelia  cares  for  me.  She  has 
not  even  a  warm  friendship  for  me.  Perhaps  I  might, 
with  time  and  patience,  win  from  her  a  lukewarm  re 
gard  ;  but  no  man  has  a  right  to  say  love  to  a  woman 
until  he  has  some  prospect  of  giving  her  as  comfortable 
a  home  as  the  one  from  which  he  takes  her.  Could  I, 
think  you, — loving  her  as  I  assuredly  do, — endure  to  see 
her  brought  down  to  a  life  of  hardship,  such  as  mine? 
My  dear  friend,  your  intentions  are  noble,  your  gen 
erosity  unparalleled,  but  you  have  not  given  the  subject 
days  and  nights  of  study  as  /  have,  or  you  would  see 
that  my  case  is  a  hopeless  one.  Her  father  saw  it,  and, 
though  he  loved  me  as  a  son,  he  was  not  willing  that  I 
should  take  her  to  share  my  own  unpromising  life ; 
and  I  promised  him  faithfully  that  I  would  not  seek  her 
again." 

"  The  circumstances  under  which  that  promise  was 
made,"  returned  Hughes,  "release  you  from  it  now. 
Then  Ophelia  was  surrounded  by  every  comfort,  every 
luxury;  now  she  is  alone  in  the  world,  and  dependent 
upon  her  own  resources." 

"I  thought  she  had  been  provided  for,"  returned 
24* 


282  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

Kingsley,  in  surprise.  "  I  have  been  told  so  by  respon 
sible  persons." 

Herve  explained  how  Mrs.  Berges  had  pretended  to 
fulfil  her  husband's  wishes,  and  provide  for  her  adopted 
•  daughter's  future  support,  with  a  lot  of  rubbish  in  the 
shape  of  notes. 

Kingsley  fell  into  a  protracted  reverie.  "  The  world 
would  think  she  had  made  but  a  poor  match,"  he  said, 
at  length. 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  matters  what  the  world 
thinks.  Besides,  while  /live" he  paused  abruptly. 

"Benefactor,  eh?"  exclaimed  Kingsley,  with  a 
vicious  smile.  "  Look  here  !  I  want  it  distinctly  under 
stood  that,  should  Ophelia  Berges  ever  consent  to 
marry  me,  she  is  dead  to  you.  I  want  no  chances  for 
disagreeable  comparisons — nor  would  I  accept  any  of 
your  assistance  to  save  either  of  us  from  starvation." 

"Of  course,"  returned  Herve,  not  in  the  least  dis 
turbed  by  the  other's  emphatic  tone,  "  that  would  be 
just  as  you  thought  best.  The  shrewdest  of  business 
men  are  sometimes  unfortunate ;  and  should  you  ever 
fall  into  trouble,  I  want  you  to  remember  that  I  am  at 
your  service.  I  am  more  practical  than  you,  Kingsley, 
and  better  fitted  for  battling  with  the  world,  and — you 
will  excuse  me — more  likely  to  make  money.  Among 
all  your  fine  talents  you  have  not  one  that  is  likely  to 
lead  you  to  wealth.  It  is  because  you  have  been  edu 
cated  for  a  gentleman,  not  a  drudge.  But  you  have  a 
vivid  energy,  and  the  world  of  letters  is  always  open  to 
you;  that  will  keep  you  from  starving." 

Kingsley  eyed  him  for  awhile  in  silence.  "  I  could 
not  have  believed  this  of  any  one,  Hughes.  How  is  it 
possible  that  she  could  overlook  such  a  noble  creature 
as  you  for  a  graceless  scamp  like  me  ?  I  have  not  been 
accustomed  to  such  nobility  and  goodness,  but  the 
opposite." 

"I  must  go  now,"  said  Herve,  turning  away. 

"We  will   talk  of   this  again,   I  hope,"    returned 


COERCION  AND   PERSUASION.  283 

Kingsley.  "And  whatever  you  may  feel  inclined  to 
say  about  my  faults  and  failings,  I  assure  you,  will  be 
gratefully  received." 

Nothing  but  goodness,  John, — pure  goodness, — can 
have  any  permanent  effect  against  the  evil  of  human 
nature.  Only  disinterested  kindness  can  melt  the  hard 
ened  heart ;  and  the  very  hardest  must  yield  to  that. 
Assumed  goodness,  no  matter  how  artfully  worn,  is 
sure  to  be  found  out.  If  we  do  good  in  the  hope  of  a 
reward,  then  it  serves  us  right  if  we  are  disappointed. 
If  we  are  kind  to  others  that  we  may  receive  praise,  it 
is  no  matter  if  we  are"  forced  to  endure  the  hard,  hard 
trial  of  ingratitude.  It  takes  the  force  of  real,  genuine 
earnestness  to  work  any  reforming  influence. 

These  two  rivals,  who,  according  to  the  code  of  the 
world,  should  have  been  mortal  enemies,  shook  hands 
as  affectionately  as  if  they  had  been  brothers. 

Before  leaving,  Herve  went  into  the  kitchen,  where 
the  woman  of  the  house  was  busied  about  her  work. 
"Good-morning,  ma'am,"  he  said,  to  attract  attention. 

She  whisked  about  suddenly,  eyed  him  sharply  for  a 
moment,  then  returned  a  rather  ungracious  "  Good- 
morning." 

"I  am  about  to  leave  my  friend  for  a  few  days  in 
your  care,"  said  Herve,  "and  I  want  to  bespeak  your 
sympathy  and  good-will  in  his  behalf." 

No  answer,  unless  a  vicious  swinging  of  pots  and 
skillets  could  be  called  one. 

"  Here,"  continued  Herve,  in  a  louder  tone,  "  is  a 
slight  compensation  for  your  trouble.  And  whatever 
other  charges  you  may  consider  proper  to  make  shall 
be  attended  to  when  I  return." 

The  hard  heart  melted  at  the  sight  of  that  bill.  Her 
countenance  softened  as  she  took  it  in  her  hand ;  it 
was  a  ten,  and  her  manner  became  as  meek  and  subdued 
as  that  of  a  pet  lamb.  Oh,  potent  bill ! 

"  How  did  your  friend  get  hurt  ?"  she  inquired,  sym- 
pathizingly. 


284  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"Got  into  a  scrape  with  a  young  man  who  was 
stronger,  and  who  beat  him,"  returned  Herve,  carelessly. 

"The  villain!"  exclaimed  the  cottager,  "to  go  to 
whipping  a  young  man,  and  such  a  nice  young  man  too, 
who  was  not  as  strong  as  he.  He  ought  to  have  his 
head  knocked  off." 

Herve  did  not  enter  very  enthusiastically  into  the 
spirit  of  her  indignation,  but  changed  the  subject. 
"You  will  find  him  amiable  and  worthy  of  the  kindest 
attention.  I  have  left  written  directions  for  his  treat 
ment,  and  will  return  in  five  or  six  days,  at  which  time 
I  hope  he  will  be  well  enough  to  travel ;  and  while  I 
think  of  it,  you  needn't  mention  that  I  gave  you  any 
thing.  He  is  very  sensitive  and  proud,  and  I  think 
wouldn't  like  it.  Good-morning,  ma'am." 

"  Good-morning,  sir ;  won't  you  stay  to  breakfast  ?" 
in  liquid  tones. 

Herve  declined  staying  to  breakfast,  and  when  he  had 
saddled  his  horse,  mounted  and  struck  off  toward  the 
city.  The  thought  of  all  he  had  done  for  his  enemy 
ought  to  have  made  him  happy ;  and  yet  the  expression 
which  sat  upon  his  countenance  throughout  the  ride 
was  not  happiness.  Poor  Herve !  all  that  he  had 
schemed  for  had  come  to  pass,  and  for  that  reason  he 
carried  a  heavy  heart  back  to  the  city  that  day. 

"What  a  selfish,  ill-natured  brute  I  am!"  he  ex 
claimed  at  length,  and  then  he  tried  to  banish  the  sub 
ject  from  his  thoughts. 

Kingsley  endured  his  affliction  with  exemplary  pa 
tience  and  resignation.  He  had  comforting  thoughts 
to  assist  him.  Never  before  had  he  dared  indulge  in 
the  hope  of  such  a  future  as  now  presented  itself  to  his 
mind  as  a  certainty.  The  tall  figure,  with  its  gentle, 
gracious  air,  sat  by  his  bedside  in  hours  of  rest  or  pain  ; 
and  serene  and  tender  eyes  looked  lovingly  into  his. 
Such  were  his  dreams.  No  thought  of  how  they  should 
live  disturbed  him ;  no  matter  if  it  were  as  the  birds 
of  the  air. 


COERCION  AND  PERSUASION.  285 

He  remembered  a  quiet,  thrifty  village,  an  Arcadia 
of  serenity  and  content ;  and  one  pretty  cottage  home, 
overshadowed  by  tall  trees  :  that  should  be  their  home, 
and-it  were  a  pity  if,  with  his  talent,  he  could  not  find 
employment  sufficient  for  their  support.  Ophelia  was 
poor  now ;  it  would  not  be  as  if  he  took  her  from  a 
downy  nest  to  place  her  in  a  position  less  comfortable  ; 
nor  had  she  any  better  prospect  of  amending  her 
fortune. 

He  hurried  to  get  well,  and  surprised  Herve  by 
making  his  appearance  long  before  he  had  supposed  it 
worth  while  to  return  for  him.  Having  reported  to  his 
friend,  he  hastened  to  Ophelia.  ,  She  entered  his  pres 
ence  as  chill  and  stately  as  before.  He  felt  as  if  a 
north  wind  had  struck  him.  He  hurried  to  tell  the 
story  which  was  to  instil  life  into  the  statue  ;  which  was 
to  melt  her  frozen  mood,  and  transform  her  into  the 
tender,  loving  angel  of  his  dreams.  He  sees  that  she 
trembles  and  turns  paler,  but  her  looks  are  averted. 
He  awaits  eagerly,  but  in  patience,  the  sweet,  the  cov 
eted  answer  which  must  come  at  last. 

At  length  his  suspense  is  ended.  Coldly  and  calmly 
she  makes  her  reply  :  "I  thank  you,  Mr.  Kingsley,  for 
the  honor  you  would  confer  upon  me,  but  you  will  have 
to  excuse  me  for  begging  leave  to  decline" 

He  looked  at  her  in  silent  amaze  for  a  minute,  but 
she  did  not  raise  her  eyes.  Suddenly  she  arose,  as  if 
on  the  point  of  leaving  the  room,  when  he  arose  also 
and  said  in  strangely  altered  tones:  "I  am  going,  di 
rectly;  but  this  is  sudden!  I  was  not  expecting  it! 
Will  you  not  give  me  a  reason  for  your  decision  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  is  necessary,  Mr.  Kingsley. 
That  I  decline,  with  thanks,  should  be  sufficient." 

There  was  a  sort  of  harshness  in  her  tone,  and  un 
natural  hauteur  in  her  manner.  He  said  nothing  more, 
but  immediately  left  the  room  and  the  house.  Left 
alone,  Ophelia  went  to  her  room  with  a  dead  weight 
upon  her  heart.  The  tide  of  life  seemed  suddenly 


286  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

come  to  an  end.  She  sat  down  by  the  window,  like 
one  in  a  dream,  and  for  one  hour  never  stirred.  The 
sun  was  setting  in  pomp,  a  funeral  cortege  drifted  by  j 
she  observed  nothing ;  she  only  felt  that  her  happiness 
was  wrecked  for  all  time. 

"  Oh,  my  generous,  but  unwise  friend,  you  know  not 
what  misery  you  have  caused  me!"  was  her  first  dis 
tinctly  conscious  plaint.  "  Because  you  loved  me, 
you  thought  the  whole  world  must  love  me.  God  help 
me  !  but  I  was  right  not  to  take  advantage  of  his  pity 
ing  mood,  and  thus  bring  toil  and  trouble  upon  his 
life." 

But  the  thought  of  her  self-sacrifice  did  not  comfort 
her.  She  pitied  herself;  she  mourned  over  and  com 
passionated  herself.  It  was  martyrdom.  She  could 
more  readily  have  given  up  her  life  than  her  love.  But 
she  had  been  made  acquainted  with  the  circumstances 
by  which  this  affair  had  been  brought  about.  She  had 
been  informed  of  the  rencontre  in  the  restaurant,  the 
meeting,  and  the  result,  so  far  as  had  been  discovered 
by  the  gentle  gossip,  her  informant. 

He  had  heard  of  her  destitution,  and  come  to  relieve 
her  want.  The  thought  of  pity,  from  him,  maddened 
her. 

She  was  terribly  aroused.  Her  old  opinions  and  her 
old  conclusions  and  views  dropped  off  like  a  useless 
garment.  She  saw  her  life,  past,  present  and  future,  in 
its  true  light :  her  discontent,  her  bitterness  and  pride. 
So  long  as  she  scorned  the  employment  by  which  she 
earned  her  daily  bread,  she  could  attain  to  no  eminent 
degree  of  success.  True  dignity  arose  from  respect. 
So  long  as  she  had  no  respect  for  her  profession  she 
could  not  be  an  adornment  to  it.  All  the  noble  persons 
whom  she  had  ever  known  had  been  persons  of  useful 
ness,  of  industry  and  energy.  How  pitiable  to  whine 
and  complain  because  she  was  forced  to  toil !  How 
silly  to  consider  an  honorable  vocation  as  an  infliction 
and  a  means  of  humiliation,  instead  of  thanking  her 


COERCION  AND  PERSUASION.  287 

stars  that  she,  who  had  been  a  worthless  cumberer  of 
the  ground,  had  been  driven  into  avenues  of  industry 
and  usefulness.  She  looked  back  upon  her  past  life  of 
imbecility  and  weakness  with  shame  and  aversion,  and 
determined  that  now  she  would  go  to  work  in  earnest, 
and  not  sit  down  to  whine  and  pule  like  a  spoiled 
child. 

When  Kingsley  had  accustomed  himself  sufficiently 
to  his  mortifying  defeat  to  speak  of  it  with  calmness, 
he  acquainted  Herve  with  the  result.  "  It  is  all  over," 
he  said;  "she  refused  me." 

Herve  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "  There  must 
be  some  mistake,"  he  exclaimed. 

"No,"  returned  Kingsley,  firmly,  "she  evidently 
knew  what  she  was  doing.  She  declined  point  blank, 
and  with  a  coldness  which  left  no  room  for  appeals, — 
even  had  I  been  disposed  to  make  any,  which  I  was  not. 
I  could  never  persuade  a  woman  into  marrying  me,  un 
less  I  thought  her  reluctance  arose  from  a  doubt  of  my 
sincerity,  which  could  not  have  been  in  this  case." 

So  these  two  lives,  so  irrevocably  intertwined,  out 
wardly  drifted  apart. 

Ophelia  procured  a  situation  as  music-teacher  in  a 
seminary — a  position  which  filled  the  whole  of  her  time 
with  occupation,  and  left  her  no  leisure  for  reflection. 
With  one  strenuous  effort  she  had  thrown  off  her  dis 
content,  and  now  took  up  the  thread  of  her  life,  undis 
mayed  at  the  threatening  future.  She  would  grieve  no 
more,  lest  thereby  she  should  seem  to  question  the  jus 
tice  and  mercy  of  God. 

In  those  meagre  and  sterile  introductory  chapters, 
you  did  not  think  that  I  would  be  so  interesting,  did 
you,  John  ?  You  think  me  right  entertaining  and  right 
pretty  now,  don't  you? 

You  are  a  real  good,  nice,  sensible  John,  and  may 
draw  your  chair  a  little  nearer,  if  you  like.  This  is 
cozy  ;  this  is  interesting  ! 


288  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

I  know  of  no  greater  pleasure,  John,  than  that  of 
expressing  one's  thoughts  fully  and  fearlessly,  with 
the  positive  assurance  that  if  they  do  not  meet  with 
entire  indorsement,  they  will  at  least  encounter  no 
ridiculous  misconstructions  nor  malicious  criticisms. 
Having  the  key  to  your  mind,  John,  I  know  very  well 
what  you  will  disapprove,  and  I  say  as  little  of  that  as 
possible,  I  assure 'you. 

Yet  I  grieve  to  say  that  I  am  sometimes  possessed 
of  a  mischievous  and  impertinent  spirit,  which  prompts 
me  occasionally  to  utter  some  rather  pert  and  provoking 
speeches  merely  to  see  how  vexed  you  will  be,  or  how 
patient.  And  I  must  say  that  you  have  borne  the  test 
with  a  nobility  peculiarly  masculine — that  is,  you  have 
held  your  tongue. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  FRUIT  OF  THE  UPAS  TREE. 

RETURNING  to  his  office  one  evening  after  a  hard 
day's  practice,  Herve  found  Tom  seated  comfortably 
in  a  chair,  with  his  feet  upon  another,  reading  the  even 
ing  paper.  (Not  more  than  two  months  ago  Tom, 
having  bidden  his  brother  a  solemn  farewell,  had  set 
forth  for  Chicago,  where  he  was  to  make  his  fortune.) 
He  nodded  a  sullen  greeting  as  Herve  entered,  and 
then  went  on  with  his  reading.  He  looked  threadbare 
and  forlorn. 

Herve  went  quietly  about  his  work  without  disturbing 
him.  At  length  he  threw  his  paper  aside.  "  You  don't 
seem  to  be  very  glad  to  see  me, ' '  he  said. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  eye?"  asked  Herve, 
not  seeming  to  have  observed  his  remark. 

"I  had  a  fight  with  that  fool,  Curry.     You  needn't 


THE  FRUIT  OF  THE   UPAS-TREE.  289 

look  so  cross ;  I  wasn't  going  to  stand  like  a  dog  and 
take  all  that  fellow  said,  because  he  had  a  pocket  full 
of  money  and  plenty  of  friends.  I'd  have  whipped 
him,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  one  of  his  toadies." 

"  I  wasn't  going  to  blame  you,"  returned  Herve. 

"  You  will  have  to  find  me  another  place  here,  Herve. 
It  seems  that  misfortunes  on  top  of  misfortunes  follow 
me.  I  have  found  nothing  but  selfishness  and  cruelty 
in  this  world.  Money  is  the  only  key  to  the  human 
heart,  and  I  am  more  determined  than  ever  to  be  rich. 
Have  you  any  spare  change,  Herve  ?  I  will  pay  you 
back  with  interest  when  I  at  last  get  a  good  start." 

Herve  gathered  up  all  the  change  he  had  about  him, 
and  gave  it  to  his  shabby  brother.  "There,  Tom,  go 
and  get  you  a  new  suit.  And,  Tom,  I  must  tell  you  my 
opinion  of  your  past  conduct.  It  is  right  that  you 
should  know  what  is  in  my  mind  concerning  your  be 
havior  for  the  last  few  months." 

Tom  winced.  "  I  know  my  own  faults  as  well  as 
any  one,  and  I  know  my  own  intentions,  though  I  never 
get  any  credit  for  the  good  I  do.  It  has  always  been 
my  misfortune  to  have  enemies,  who  do  all  within  their 
power  against  me." 

"  So  long  as  you  are  governed  by  your  own  impulses 
and  appetites,  you  will  find  the  world  full  of  'selfishness 
and  cruelty,'  because,  Tom,  we  are  all  prone  to  attribute 
the  purposes  and  feelings  of  our  own  hearts  to  others. 
Deny  yourself  the  indulgences  that  have  been  your 
ruin ;  devote  yourself  soberly  and  earnestly  to  any 
honorable  pursuit  within  the  range  of  your  capabilities, 
and  there  is  no  doubt  but  you  will  in  time  obtain  the 
fortune  which  you  so  much  covet.  On  the  contrary, 
continue  in  the  course  you  have  begun,  and  your  life 
will  be  a  continued  train  of  misfortunes." 

Tom  fidgeted,  but  said  nothing.     He  took  his  money 

and  the  rebuke  with   apparent  resignation,  but  as  he 

went  off  down  the  street  he  muttered,  "The  sanctified 

hypocrite  !    Wonderfully  superior,  because  he  happened 

N  25 


290 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


upon  a  streak  of  good  luck  in  his  profession.  If  I  had 
only  been  educated  to  a  profession  !  But  it  is  too  late 
now.  However,  I'll  be  even  with  him  yet,  and  then 
we'll  see  who'll  preach  and  dictate  rules  of  decorum — 
as  if  I  was  a  child,  or  an  idiot !" 

Meanwhile  Herve  was  building  high  hopes  for  his 
brother,  upon  account  of  the  subdued  air  with  which  he 
had  received  his  admonition  and  advice.  Herve  fol 
lowed  the  dictates  of  his  own  conscience,  and  guided 
his  actions  by  its  impulses ;  but  it  was  a  broader,  a 
more  magnanimous  and  healthy  conscience  than  most 
people  have.  He  need  not  have  expected  other  per 
sons  whose  consciences  could  have  been  wrapped  in  a 
dollar  bill  to  be  guided  by  the  broad,  wide-spreading, 
views  originated  in  his  own  capacious  mind. 

Herve  did  what  he  could  to  help  his  brother  into 
another  position,  and  extracted  a  promise  from  him  that 
he  would  refrain  thereafter  from  intoxicating  drinks, 
the  observance  of  which  Tom  limited  to  his  own  dis 
cretion. 

It  is  singular  with  what  pertinacity  people  (not  up 
held  by  some  fictitious  support,  or  kept  down  by  inevit 
able  misfortunes)  find  their  natural  level.  One  man 
you  may  beat  down,  again  and  again,  and  each  time  he 
will  rise,  and  at  length  overcome,  and  attain  to  a  posi 
tion  beyond  the  reach  of  his  malevolent  assailants. 
Another  you  may  elevate  into  a  respectable  place,  and 
you  will  find  him  tumbling  out  of  it  as  often  as  you 
may  find  yourself  inclined  to  restore  him  to  theunsuited 
position. 

You  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  Tom,  in  his 
haste  to  get  rich,  appropriated  some  of  his  employer's 
funds,  and  was  unable  to  replace  the  sum  before  the 
matter  was  discovered ;  and  Herve  receives  a  pitiful 
note  from  some  private  place  of  confinement  in  which 
his  brother  begs'  him  to  send  him  five  hundred  dollars 
immediately  to  save  him  from  disgrace. 

Now  we  have  seen  how  Herve,  though  of  an  extra- 


THE  FRUIT  OF  THE    UPAS-TREE. 


291 


ordinarily  patient  and  long-suffering  disposition,  is  a 
whirlwind  in  his  wrath.  "No,"  he  returned,  "you 
are  a  criminal,  and  it  is  but  just  that  you  should  suffer." 

Tom  was  not  daunted  by  his  brother's  refusal,  but 
begged  a  little  more  time,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  his 
father  with  a  pitiful  story  of  loss  and  misfortune,  and 
the  request  that  he  would  sign  the  inclosed  "obliga 
tion,"  and  thereby  release  him:  said  obligation  calling 
for  five  hundred  dollars,  payable  in  one  month,  and 
placing  his  land  in  forfeit.  Consternation  reigned  in 
the  Hughes  household  ;  but  the  obligation  was  signed. 

Mr.  Hughes  went  to  work  to  sell  whatever  portion 
of  his  possessions  he  could  sacrifice  with  the  least  in 
convenience.  To  him,  who  had  plodded  slowly  up  to 
his  present  position  of  bare  competence,  five  hundred 
dollars  was  a  vast  sum,  and  the  loss  would  entail  upon 
them  untold  stinting  and  self-denial.  But  the  honor 
of  his  family  was  of  infinitely  greater  value  than  all 
other  possessions. 

Upon  the  payment  of  the  money,  Mr.  Hughes  re 
quired  that  his  son  should  come  home  and  remain  a 
year.  He  sent  the  money  to  bear  his  expenses,  and 
in  due  time  Tom  arrived  at  the  hated  "  old  prison," 
from  which  he  had  escaped  some  four  or  five  years  ago. 
He  looked  pale  and  worn  with  anxiety  and  dissipation 
— was  extremely  muddy  and  not  over  sober ;  so  the 
cool  greeting  which  he  received,  after  his  long  ab 
sence,  did  not  disturb  him  greatly.  His  mother  burst 
into  tears  and  left  the  room,  his  sisters  eyed  him  dis 
dainfully,  and  honest  indignation  shone  in  his  father's 
eye  though  he  said  but  little.  What  use  to  lecture  a 
man  who  is  half  drunk  ? 

For  a  few  days  Tom  lounged  about  discontentedly, 
then  proposed  to  start  the  distillery — which  was  idle 
this  season — again.  He  had  searched  the  place  for 
brandy  and  found  that  every. drop  had  been  sold,  and 
he  must  have  something.  He  couldn't  exist  much 
longer  in  that  place  without  some  means  of  excitement. 


292 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


"No,"  returned  his  father,  "it  has  done  harm 
enough;  I  shall  burn  it."  And  he  set  about  applying 
a  torch. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Why  don't 
you  sell  it,  if  you  don't  want  to  keep  it  up  any  longer 
yourself?  /'//buy  it,  and  pay  you  in  two  months." 

"It  has  done  harm  enough,  I  tell  you  !  "  cried  the 
old  gentleman  (how  changed  his  tune  since  the  open 
ing  of  this  volume).  "I  would  give  all  I  possess  if  it 
had  never  been  built." 

He  burned  the  distillery,  but  that  did  not  undo  the 
mischief  it  had  created.  Too  late  he  perceived  the  evil 
of  which  it  was  the  sole  source.  But  for  it,  this  son, 
upon  whose  account  his  head  was  bowed  with  grief 
and  shame,  might  have  been  an  honor  and  a  comfort 
to  his  old  age. 

Ah  me !  is  it  not  a  pity  that  good,  sensible  people 
must  sometimes  be  "  driven  with  stripes"  into  the 
right  path  !  But  for  the  weakness  of  this  son,  Mr. 
Hughes  might  have  gone  on  to  his  dying  day  defend 
ing  the  distillery  and  sending  forth  strong  drink,  to 
assist  in  the  mighty  work  of  destruction  which  is  going 
on  throughout  the  whole  land,  but  to  a  more  fearful 
extent  in  his  own  State — Kentucky. 

My  ideas  of  political  economy,  as  you  may  have  dis 
covered,  are  rather  vague  and  indistinct,  but  had  I 
the  reins  of  the  law  in  my  hands  for  a  short  space, 
what  a  "weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth" 
there  would  be,  for  a  season,  among  the  distillers,  bar 
keepers  and  drunkards  !  And  what  an  increase  in  the 
demand  for  pickaxes,  and  whatever  other  implements 
it  takes  to  make  passable  highways  out  of  the  cow- 
paths  and  mud-lanes  through  which  the  inhabitants 
of  some  portions  of  this  State  are  content  to  jog  for 
ever,  rather  than  sacrifice  the  smallest  portion  of  their 
personal  property  for  a  work  that  would  benefit  their 
neighbors,  and  even  strangers,  as  much  as  themselves. 

Tom  still  lives,  and  is  patiently  awaiting  the  demise 


THE  FRUIT  OF  THE    UPAS-TREE. 


293 


of  his  worthy  parent,  that  he  may  re-erect  the  distillery 
and  make  that  fortune  which  has  continued  to  elude 
his  grasp. 

I  could  not  wish  every  distiller  the  misfortune  and 
unhappiness  of  this  one;  but,  rather,  that  deep  sym 
pathy  and  brotherly  love  which  is  capable  of  personal 
sacrifices  for  public  good. 

"It  is  but  a  little  evil  that  my  distillery  can  do," 
exclaims  the  distiller  whose  eye  may  meet  this  page. 

Sir,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  "little  evil,"  in  all 
this  world.  The  smallest  wrong  is  the  germ  from 
whence  springs  the  giant  evils ;  which  in  turn  multiply 
and  produce  thousands  of  other  evils  like  unto  them 
selves. 

"It  is  but  a  small  affair,"  reasoned  mother  Eve,  as 
she  contemplated  the  forbidden  fruit,  "a  very  small 
affair,  this,  which  the  great  Lord  has  forbidden  us, 
and  there  can  be  no  harm  in  merely  tasting  what  it  is 
that  is  denied  us."  And  so  a  world  was  plunged  into 
a  sea  of  miseries,  from  whence  only  the  agony  and 
death  of  a  God  could  deliver  it. 

With  what  pleasure  and  relief  must  these  parents 
have  turned  to  their  other  son,  their  temperate,  indus 
trious,  noble-hearted  Herve  ! 

I  must  acknowledge  that  Herve  oftentimes  grew 
restless,  moody  and  irritable ;  grew  impatient  with 
the  ingratitude  and  greed  with  which  his  kindness 
and  charity  were  sometimes  met,  and  felt,  within  his 
heart,  that  his  lot  was  hard.  But  the  hardest  of  his 
trials  was  that  infinite  famine  of  heart  induced  by 
unrequited  love. 

Herve  was  designed  for  a  philanthropist,  a  benefac 
tor  of  his  race.  Had  he  obtained  the  love  of  his 
worshiped  "saint,"  and  married  her,  do  not  you  per 
ceive  that — unless  he  had  been  disappointed  in  her, 
and  consequently  miserable — he  must  have  been  so 
absorbed  in  his  excessive  love  for  her  that  there  would 
have  been  but  little  of  him  left  for  the  exercise  of  good 
25* 


294 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


works  ?  Physically  speaking,  women  are  seldom  glut 
tonous  ;  spiritually,  they  are  cormorants.  Was  ever  a 
woman  loved  enough?  The  feminine  heart  cries  con 
tinually  "  give,  give."  Artemisia,  who  had  her  beloved 
husband's  remains  reduced  to  powder  and  swallowed 
them,  only  typifies  the  characteristic  greediness  of  the 
sex. 

Thus,  it  was  a  good  thing  for  Herve  that  he  was 
disappointed  in  his  first  excessive  devotion,  and  that 
he  met  the  lady-like  Miss  Moffit  (the  pretty  dress 
maker,  you  remember)  during  Ophelia's  illness ;  and 
that  he  turned  to  her  for  comfort  when  his  dear  love 
had  gone.  It  is  needless  to  relate  the  progress  of  their 
acquaintance.  Herve' s  heart  was  always  open  to 
tender  pity,  and  turned  always  from  the  proud  and 
fortunate  to  the  gentle  and  lowly  ;  even  Ophelia  had 
been  disregarded  while  she  lived  in  comfort  and 
affluence. 

He  related  the  story  of  his  first,  unfortunate  love : 
"was  his  wounded  heart  worth  the  having?"  She  was 
silent,  but  the  blush  on  her  cheek  spoke  for  her.  Further 
urged,  she  confessed  that  nothing,  in  her  estimation, 
was  good  enough  to  deserve  such  a  heart.  So  it  was 
settled,  and  I  doubt  not  that  Herve's  domestic  life  is 
as  free  from  discord,  and  as  peaceful  and  happy,  as 
ever  falls  to  the  lot  of  ordinary  mortals. 

I  know  that  I  shall  make  many  enemies  by  express 
ing  so  freely  my  aversion  to  drinking  habits,  drinking 
characters  and  drink-factories.  But,  John,  I  am  so 
often  made  to  feel  grieved  and  sorrowful  in  behalf  of 
the  helpless  victims  of  this  Giant  Curse,  that  I  care  but 
little  for  the  displeasure  of  others,  if  I  may  but  lend 
the  smallest  assistance  in  freeing  the  land  from  its  per 
nicious  and  fatal  influences ;  influences  which  crush 
the  very  life — the  spiritual  life — out  of  many  miser 
able  unfortunates  who  otherwise  might  have  made 
honorable  and  useful  members  of  society. 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST  THE  INEVITABLE.       295 
CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

STRUGGLING   AGAINST   THE    INEVITABLE. 

OPHELIA  returned  from  her  teaching,  in  the  vacation, 
considerably  fatigued  and  worn  in  body,  but  serene  in 
mind.  Mrs.  Harper,  who  had  continued  her  friend 
throughout  her  cloudy  as  well  as  sunny  days,  called  at 
her  boarding-house  with  a  pressing  invitation  that  she 
should  spend  the  summer  with  her:  as  neither  would 
be  able  to  leave  the  city  during  the  season,  why  not 
spend  it  together?  Ophelia  had  no  objections  to  offer, 
and  immediately  transferred  herself  and  baggage  to  the 
more  commodious  and  inviting  apartments  of  her 
friend. 

She  also  received  a  similar  invitation  from  Dr. 
Hughes  and  his  wife,  which  was  declined,  with  thanks. 
Now,  for  the  sake  of  truth,  it  must  be  confessed  that 
Ophelia  felt  a  little  vexed  that  Herve  had  found  it  such 
an  easy  matter  to  console  himself,  after  exhibiting  such 
signs  of  unhappiness  at  her  refusal.  Bereft  of  all  her 
lovers,  Ophelia  began  to  think  that  perhaps  she  had 
been  too  hasty,  or  too  conscientious,  or  too  something; 
and  yet,  considering  the  matter  over,  she  could  not 
but  confess  that,  under  the  same  circumstances,  her 
actions  would  be  the  same  as  in  the  past. 

She  made  no  inquiries  concerning  Kingsley.  She 
felt  too  comfortably  indifferent  in  regard  to  that  gen 
tleman,  to  have  any  wish  for  further  knowledge  of  his 
movements.  She  only  hoped  that  he  was  absent  from 
the  city.  But  he  was  not  absent  from  the  city,  and  the 
first  time  she  appeared  in  public,  in  company  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Harper,  she  met  him  with  Louise  Benton  on 
his  arm,  his  face  radiant  with  enjoyment. 

He  bowed  carelessly  to  the  party,  and  passed  on. 


296  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

What  immense  damage  one  little  glance  can  work ! 
The  old  love  sprang  up,  and  asserted  itself  to  be  still 
alive, — vividly  alive. 

"That  will  be  another  happy  match,"  said  Mrs. 
Harper,  when  they  had  passed;  "  Kingsley  and  Louise 
Benton.  Had  you  heard  of  it,  Ophelia?" 

No,  Ophelia  had  not  heard  of  it;  and  so  Mrs. 
Harper  related  all  the  particulars  which  she  had  gath 
ered  from  the  gossips,  and  kept  Ophelia's  heart  upon 
the  rack  until  they  were  ready  to  return  home. 

"Haven't  we  spent  a  pleasant  evening,  Ophelia?" 
she  said,  as  they  entered  the  house.  And  Ophelia  was 
obliged  to  say  "Yes,"  and  agree  to  "go  out  often," 
at  her  friend's  request.  Then  she  crept  up  to  her 
room  to  have  a  battle  with  herself..  How  hard  was 
this  angelic  nature  to  subdue  ! 

They  "went  out"  often,  and  everywhere  met  Kings- 
ley, — sometimes  with  Louise  Benton,  sometimes  alone. 
One  evening  he  stopped  them  and  proposed  to  relieve 
Mr.  Harper  of  one  of  the  ladies,  offering  his  arm  to 
Ophelia.  She  took  it  reluctantly.  A  fierce  resentment 
against  him  rose  in  her  heart,  because  of  his  power  over 
her.  She  tried  to  look  indifferent,  but  could  not.  "It 
is  warm  in  here,"  she  said,  pushing  her  hair  back  from 
her  forehead  with  an  impatient  hand. 

"  Should  you  like  a  walk?  you  do  not  care  for  these 
things?"  (They  were  at  an  "'Orphans'  Fair.") 

"I  have  no  objections,"  she  returned,  "only  we 
will  have  some  difficulty  in  finding  Mrs.  Harper,  if  we 
leave  here." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  it  is  imperatively  necessary  that 
we  should  find  Mrs.  Harper,"  he  replied.  "I  can 
take  you  home,  if  you  will  allow  me  that  honor." 

Out  upon  the  street,  away  from  the  watchful  crowd, 
his  manner  changed  completely.  What  sort  of  a 
tangled  web  was  he  weaving?  Here  he  was  now, — the 
accepted  lover  of  Louise  Benton, — who,  at  other  times, 
had  taken  particular  pains  to  display  his  utter  indiffer- 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST  THE  INEVITABLE. 


297 


ence  to  her,  looking  deep  into  her  eyes  as  if  from 
thence  he  drew  the  light  of  his  life.  How  could  she 
have  been  so  deceived  in  him?  It  was  not  possible 
that  he  could  be  guilty  of  premeditated  wrong. 

It  was  a  spiritual  face,  singularly  free  from  all  traces 
of  vicious  or  trivial  thought,  and  containing  a  greater 
range  of  expression  than  is  accorded  to  many.  It 
bore  the  truthful,  honest  expression  of  one  who  hated 
falsehood;  and  yet  Ophelia  looked  upon  it  with  a 
stronger  sensation  of  fear  than  she  had  ever  experienced 
in  her  whole  life  before.  Her  faith  in  him,  and  in  her 
self,  was  terribly  shaken.  Could  it  be  that  he  did  not 
love  Louise,  and  that  he  was  entering  into  an  alliance 
entirely  distasteful  to  him?  This  thought,  once  having 
taken  possession  of  her  mind,  was  not  to  be  dispos 
sessed,  and,  in  spite  of  her  judgment,  she  began  to 
think  that,  after  all,  perhaps  he  loved  her  yet. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  thought,  as  she  listened  to  his 
incipient  love  confessions,  "how  are  we  to  know,  in 
this  deceiving  world,  whether  a  man  is  in  earnest  or 
only  amusing  himself?" 

And  while  she  debated  the  matter,  the  tender  love- 
blossoms,  which  she  thought  absence  and  his  coldness 
and  neglect  had  killed,  were  slowly  unfolding  their 
petals  again.  His  words,  though  mythical,  breathed 
love,  and  the  prudent  Ophelia's  replies  were  not  less 
entertaining.  She  had  an  idea  that  she  was  saying 
some  extraordinary  things, — something  she  ought  not 
to  say,  perhaps.  But  this  tide  of  thought  and  feeling 
had  been  accumulating  too  long  to  be  restrained  by  a 
power  that  was  as  frail  as  the  Philistines'  withes. 

Ophelia  went  home  as  happy  as  a  fool ;  but  her  hap 
piness,  founded  upon  nothing,  was  destined  to  be  of 
short  standing;  and  when  Kingsley  failed  to  call,  as 
was  expected  of  him,  and  failed  to  pay  her  any  more 
attention,  Ophelia's  airy  chateau  tumbled  to  the  ground. 
If  this  sort  of  treatment  was  meant  to  subdue  her  pride, 
and  humble  her  egotistic  spirit  into  the  very  dust,  it 

N* 


298  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

succeeded.  When  she  was  chilled  to  death  almost,  he 
returned  as  genial  and  fascinating  as  ever;  and  this 
sudden  change,  from  formality  to  friendliness,  from 
chilling  distance  to  winning  nearness,  completely  con 
quered  her  stubborn  will.  She  could  never  tell  what 
sort  of  treatment  she  was  to  receive,  nor  could  she  any 
longer  resist  the  influence  of  his  manner,  which  made 
her  happy  or  miserable  according  as  he  willed. 

And  now  began  the  hardest  struggle  which  it  had 
yet  been  her  misfortune  to  know, — "  that  pitiful  coiling 
and  recoiling,  and  self-involved  returns  of  a  sickening 
famine  and  thirst  of  heart"  which,  we  are  told,  "if 
rightly  placed,  gives  life,  and  wrongly  placed,  wastes  it 
away. ' ' 

The  time  had  come  now  when  she  had  no  further 
control  over  her  own  heart.  She  was  as  a  leaf  twirled 
by  the  storm.  Oh,  how  morose  and  unhappy  she  grew ! 
how  solitary  and  unsocial  in  her  habits !  But  she 
held  fast  to  her  faith  in  the  goodness  of  God.  Must 
not  we,  who  receive  good  at  his  hand,  receive  also 
evil? 

No  one — not  even  Kingsley — knew  the  extent  of 
her  unhappiness,  for  Ophelia  had  a  deceiving  face,  a 
face  that  spoke  of  peace  when  there  was  no  peace, 
that  looked  bright  when  her  very  soul  was  in  "sack 
cloth  and  ashes."  As  for  confession,  she  would  have 
died  rather  than  let  her  love  be  known  by  word  or 
action.  And  yet,  one  night,  when  left  alone  with  her 
own  thoughts,  she  felt  an  overpowering  necessity  for 
unburdening  her  mind.  Oh,  if  her  friend  had  only 
lived !  But  regrets  were  unavailing.  Suddenly  a 
sweet,  sad  face,  the  face  of  one  whose  trials  had  been 
greater  than  hers,  arose  in  her  mind, — an  associate 
teacher,  Miss  Hartley.  In  this  lady  she  could  place 
implicit  confidence.  She  would  write  to  Miss  Hartley. 

She  sat  down  and  poured  out  her  whole  soul  in  one 
full,  free  confession  of  her  love  for  Kingsley, — her 
belief  in  his  continued  affection  for  her,  and  her  fears 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST   THE   INEVITABLE. 


299 


that  she  had  lost  him  forever.  If  he  loved  another 
woman,  then  she  would  willingly  give  him  up, — not 
only  willingly  but  gladly ;  but  if  he  married  without 
love,  then  she  should  forever  blame  herself  for  the  un- 
happiness  that  would  be  sure  to  ensue.  How  ignorant ! 
— how  stupidly  blind  she  had  been  !  And  how  igno 
rant  and  blind  yet !  She  related  minutely  and  truth 
fully  the  story  of  their  love.  She  wanted  sympathy 
and  she  wanted  advice;  and  throughout  the  whole 
letter  was  perceivable  her  despairing  desire  for  his  love. 

When  she  had  finished,  Ophelia  /elt  almost  happy, 
there  was  such  a  calm  upon  her  spirit.  The  stormy 
mood  had  spent  itself,  the  surging  passions  which  had 
so  long  controlled  her  had  worn  themselves  aweary, 
and  she  felt  peaceful  and  almost  content.  Already  she 
felt  the  balm  of  sympathy,  so  soothing  to  the  wounded 
heart,  which  her  messenger  would  bring. 

Treacherous,  treacherous  messenger  !  How  was  she 
to  know  that  the  innocent-looking  missive,  to  which  she 
had  intrusted  her  heart's  secret,  instead  of  consolation 
was  to  bring  her  the  deepest  humiliation  and  shame  she 
had  ever  known  ? 

The  vacation  was  almost  gone  before  she  ceased  to 
look  for  a  reply ;  she  still  wrestled  alone  with  her  love, 
and  yielded  to  it  when  there  was  no  other  alternative. 
Through  the  day  she  kept  her  mind  employed,  but  as 
the  weird  twilight  came  on  with  its  sombre  lights  and 
shadows,  it  brought  with  it  another  less  manageable 
mood.  The  eager  dark  eyes  that  were  wont  to  dip 
into  her  thoughts,  whether  she  willed  or  no,  came  with 
the  shadows  and  forced  her  to  feel  their  power. 

Kingsley  was  not  quite  stone-blind,  and  he  began  to 
perceive  that  his  presence  produced  a  little  more  effect 
than  formerly.  He  saw  that  his  rare  visits  were  a  little 
more  appreciated.  He  knew,  when  he  stayed  away 
longer  than  usual,  how  she  was  longing  to  see  him. 
He  stayed  away  on  purpose  that  she  might  grow  more 
eager.  He  could  fancy  her  coming  into  the  pretty 


300 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


parlor  with  her  quick  step,  and  her  half-shy,  half- 
pleased  smile,  in  haste  to  be  with  him,  and  yet  half 
afraid.  He  measured  the  increase  of  power  by  his  own 
heart-dial,  and  when  he  could  stay  away  no  longer  he 
went.  It  was  all  new  ground  to  him ;  and  he  began  to 
understand  how,  in  the  school  of  love,  the  man  is 
always  the  teacher,  the  woman  the  obedient  or  rebel 
lious  pupil. 

"I  suppose  you  have  heard  the  report,"  he  said, 
one  evening  during  a  brief  call,  "of  my  approaching 
marriage?" 

"Yes,"  she  returned,  rather  faintly.  Though  she 
wanted  him  married  and  out  of  her  way,  she  was  not 
quite  ready  to  face  the  fact  with  a  cheerful  countenance. 
"I  am  very  glad,"  she  added,  feeling  an  imminent 
necessity  for  saying  something,  "  if  you  truly  love  her, 

and" He  was  looking  at  her  so  earnestly,  and  her 

face  was  turning  red  and  telling  on  her ;  so  she  broke 
down  and  looked  about  as  foolish  as  it  was  possible  for 
Ophelia  to  look. 

"But  I  do  not  love  her!" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  in  amazed  reproof.  "  Then  you 
should  not  marry  her." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  marry  her,"  he  returned,  smil 
ing  slightly.  "  It  is  true  Miss  Louise  Benton  is  to  be 
married  in  a  very  short  time,  but  I  am  not  the  happy 
man.  It  is  my  cousin.  You  remember  to  have  heard 
me  speak  of  Reade  Kingsley.  It  is  he.  He  has  loved 
Louise  a  long  time,  though  he  has  seen  her  but  seldom. 
It  was  for  his  sake,  though  I  liked  Louise  too,  that  I 
was  with  her  so  much." 

There  was  something  peculiar  in  his  manner  upon 
this  evening,  something  she  could  not  understand.  He 
seemed  preoccupied,  and  yet  his  manner  was  too  gentle, 
too  satisfied,  to  contain  the  slightest  degree  of  hostile 
feeling. 

When  he  arose  to  go,  which  was  very  early,  he  in 
quired  if  she  had  any  engagement  for  the  following 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST  THE   INEVITABLE. 


301 


afternoon,  and  would  she  accompany  him  in  a  drive? 
Ophelia  could  think  of  nothing  to  detain  her,  and  he 
seemed  entirely  satisfied  with  her  cool  assent. 

The  drive  was  into  the  country,  along  a  beautiful 
road ;  at  least  it  appeared  beautiful  to  Kingsley  and 
his  companion,  and  would  have  appeared  so  under  any 
circumstances. 

"I  received,  oh,  the  su<eetest  letter  that  was  ever 
written,  a  few  evenings  ago,"  he  said,  as  they  trotted 
along  the  shady  road.  "I  know  you  never,  in  all  your 
life,  received  a  letter  which  made  you  so  happy." 

"  From  whom  was  it,  pray  ?"  inquired  Ophelia,  in  a 
slightly  injured  tone. 

"It  was  from  the  dead-letter  office,"  he  returned. 

Ophelia  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise,  and  he  con 
tinued  :  "  It  was  written  by  a  lady,  and  to  a  lady ;  but 
my  name  was  the  only  o'ne  mentioned  in  full,  and  so  it 
was  returned  to  me — having,  from  some  cause,  failed 
of  its  destination." 

Ophelia's  eyes  dilated,  and  a  startled  look  came  into 
them.  "Who  were  the  ladies?"  she  inquired,  in  a 
faltering  tone. 

"  From  the  signature,  it  seemed  that  the  writer's 
name  was  Ophelia, — the  lady  addressed,  Miss  Ida  Hart 
ley." 

The  mischievous  expression  in  Kingsley's  eye  changed 
to  one  of  alarm  when  he  perceived  the  effect  of  his 
words  upon  his  companion.  The  blood  suddenly 
rushed  to  her  face  and  dyed  it  crimson,  then  as  sud 
denly  receded,  leaving  her  deathly  pale.  She  clutched 
feebly  at  the  side  of  the  buggy,  but  missed  it,  and  fell 
heavily  forward. 

Kingsley  caught  her,  and  held  her  in  his  arms  with 
out  an  idea  of  what  he  was  to  do  with  her.  He  was* 
terribly  alarmed.  She  might  be  dead  !  How  cruel  and 
thoughtless  in  him  to  tell  her  so  suddenly  !  Oh,  what 
a  fool  he  was !  and  in  the  midst  of  his  stormy  self-re 
proaches  and  regrets,  looking  into  the  pale,  expression- 

26 


302 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


less  face,  he  yielded  to  the  impulse  of  the  moment  and 
kissed  her.  The  fervor  of  that  kiss  awoke  her,  and  she 
sat  up,  with  a  look  of  alarm  that  almost  equaled  his 
own.  Kingsley  was  too  deeply  relieved  to  feel  awk 
ward  ;  and  when  she  drew  herself  up  with  an  attempt 
at  her  old  dignity,  he  looked  wicked  and  inquired  if 
she  were  liable  to  these  spells,  and  offered  to  hold 
her  again,  that  she  might  not  fall  entirely  out  next  time  ; 
said  he  was  not  near  through  yet,  that  there  was  some 
thing  more  trying  still  she  would  have  to  hear,  and 
that  really  he  had  better  get  a  good  hold  in  time. 

Ophelia  was  too  deeply  abased  in  her  own  eyes  to 
be  brought  to  smile,  and  only  drew  herself  as  far  away 
from  him  as  she  could,  and  looked  greatly  distressed. 

"Ophelia,"  he  said,  turning  serious  at  length,  "you 
must  not  let  that  letter  distress  you,  for  it  made  me  very 
happy.  And  if  you  continue  to  regret  it  so  deeply,  I 
shall  think  that,  after  all,  it  meant  nothing,  but  was 
only  a  little  fiction,  designed  to  amuse  your  friend." 

As  they  neared  home,  Ophelia  regained  somewhat  of 
her  usual  serenity.  "Of  course,  Mr.  Kingsley,"  she 
said,  in  her  firm,  decisive  tone,  "you  will  discontinue 
your  visits.  You  can  understand  how  awkward  a  con 
tinuation  of  the  acquaintance  would  be  to  me,  under 
the  circumstances." 

He  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise,  but  as  they  were 
driving  up  before  Mrs.  Harper's  door,  he  only  replied, 
"Certainly;  it  shall  be  just  as  you  wish,  after  to-mor 
row.  I  must  have  your  permission  for  one  more  visit 
to-morrow  evening." 

Ophelia  gave  her  consent,  and,  bidding  him  "good 
evening,"  hurried  into  the  house.  She  was  deeply 
agitated.  Alone  in  her  room,  she  walked  about  in  an 
excited  manner,  trembling  violently.  What,  in  Heav 
en's  name,  must  he  think  of  her?  If  he  should  vow, 
by  all  that  was  sacred,  that  he  loved  her,  how  could 
she  believe  it  now  ?  How  was  she  to  know  that  it  was 
not  pity,  gratified  vanity,  or  a  sudden  fancy,  induced 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST  THE   INEVITABLE.       303 

by  the  circumstances  ?  She  sat  down  by  the  window 
and  tried  to  recall  the  contents  of  the  fatal  letter;  but 
she  could  only  remember  the  mood  under  which  it  was 
written, — the  reckless,  despairing,  almost  distracted 
mood. 

The  evening  came  at  last,  and  Ophelia,  in  spite  of 
her  brisk  walk  through  shady  streets, — her  shopping, 
calling,  and  various  methods  for  getting  rid  of  her 
superfluous  excitement, — entered  the  room  where  Mr. 
Kingsley  awaited  her,  in  a  nervous  tremor.  She  sat 
down  by  the  window,  far  away  from  him ;  but  he  was 
not  long  ia  reducing  the  distance  to  a  very  shor.t  space. 

A  radiant  content  pervaded  his  countenance  and 
manner.  He  appeared  in  such  perfect  command  of 
himself, — and  that  he  had  rarely  appeared  before, — so 
sublimely  at  ease  with  himself  and  all  the  world,  that 
Ophelia  observed  him  with  involuntary  wonder. 

It  is  useless  to  repeat  all  that  was  said, — much  non 
sense  upon  both  sides,  no  doubt,  for  people  are  not 
supposed  to  be  in  the  full  possession  of  all  their  mental 
faculties  upon  such  occasions.  Kingsley  reasoned  with 
the  fluency  of  one  who  is  confident  as  to  the  result. 
Ophelia  struggled  faintly  against  the  encroaching  influ 
ence  which  was  subjecting  her  will  to  a  stronger  power, 
but  finally  yielded.  He  was  not  slow  in  taking  posses 
sion  of  his  property,  after  the  usual  manner  of  lovers; 
and  Ophelia,  half  frightened,  half  pleased,  not  know 
ing  which  to  do,  laugh  or  cry,  compromised  the  matter 
and  did  a  little  of  both. 

"I  am  so  happy,  Ophelia,"  said  Kingsley,  "that  I 
feel  puffed  up  with  pride  at  the  thought  of  having  your 
love.  I  have  been  a  complete  egotist  ever  since  I  re 
ceived  that  letter,  which  you  did  not  know  ypu  were 
writing  to  me.  Scold  me,  Ophelia,  and  make  me  feel 
small.  Tell  me  of  some  ill-natured  things  you  have 
been  thinking  of  me,  for  I  feel  the  need  of  some  sort 
of  ballast  to  this  overplus  of  happiness.  Like  Philip 
of  Macedon,  who,  overwhelmed  with  "victories  and 


3°4 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


success,  prayed  the  gods  to  make  haste  and  send  him 
some  small  misfortune,  I  fear  the  favor  of  fickle  For 
tune.  It  seems  a  perilous  thing  to  be  too  happy." 

"That  is  no  rule  by  which  to  judge  the  decrees  of 
an  all-wise  Providence,"  said  Ophelia.  "  If  we  receive 
punishment,  it  is  because  we  stand  in  need  of  discipline. 
If  we  receive  happiness,  it  is  a  gift  of  God,  and  does 
not  portend  sorrow  any  more  than  sunny  weather  por 
tends  a  storm." 

"I  am  so  unworthy  of  you,  Ophelia,"  he  said. 
"You  do  not  know  what  a  miserable  sinner  I  am!" 

"Have  been,  perhaps,"  she  replied.  "You  have 
the  future  in  your  own  hands.  You  do  not  love  vice,  I 
am  sure." 

"I  hate,  I  loathe  it!"  he  exclaimed,  vehemently. 
"And  then  I  am  very  poor,  Ophelia;  I  can  offer  you 
but  an  humble  house." 

"  I  have  learned  the  blessing  of  a  simple,  unpreten 
tious  life,"  was  her  reply.  "I  have  no  longer  the 
smallest  desire  for  wealth." 

When  the  ten  o'clock  bells  sounded,  Kingsley  pro 
tested  against  being  sent  away,  according  to  her  usual 
custom ;  but  Ophelia  was  inexorable.  Like  the  majority 
of  engaged  young  ladies,  she  was  not  loth  to  take  up 
the  reins,  in  the  brief  interval  of  courtship,  and  drive 
as  willfully  and  recklessly  as  women  generally  drive 
when  they  have  the  chance. 

He  arose  to  take  his  leave,  but  the  '"'good-night" 
was  to  be  no  common-place  affair.  Ophelia  looked  a 
little  awe-struck  at  his  assurance.  He  placed  his  hand 
lightly  upon  her  waist,  and  bent  his  lips  to  hers  in  a 
slight  and  momentary  pressure.  Then  he  was  gone, 
even  before  she  could  summon  the  courage  to  look  up 
and  see  what  sort  of  an  expression  there  might  be  upon 
his  face. 

For  awhile  she  sat  still,  waiting  for  the  vibration  of 
that  light  touch  to  die  away ;  until  the  sound  of  coming 
footsteps  aroused  her,  when,  shrugging  her  shoulders  in 


STRUGGLING  AGAINST  THE   INEVITABLE.       305 

a  sort  of  self-contempt,  she  hastened  to  her  own  room. 
She  slept  lightly  that  night,  and  the  sense  of  a  soothing 
presence  mingled  with  all  her  dreams.  Morning  and 
returning  consciousness  brought  with  them  the  vivid, 
eloquent  glances  of  dark  eyes,  which  flooded  her  whole 
being  with  a  strangely  perceptible  and  yet  unutterable 
serenity. 

"  Sensuous! — purely  sensuous!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
a  petulant  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  But  a  minute  after 
she  was  kneeling  in  the  sweet  dawn  to  thank  the  Al 
mighty  God  for  his  goodness  to  her,  and  to  beseech 
his  forgiveness  for  her  past  distrust  of  him.  He  had 
taken  care  of  her  when  she  had  not  merited  his  care. 
While  she  was  complaining  of  trials  she  was  forced  to 
endure,  he  had  been  ordering  all  things  for  her  good. 

She  had  only  followed  the  blind,  shallow  instincts  of 
the  whole  human  race  in  doubting  whatever  she  could 
not  see  with  her  own  eyes.  It  is  a  characteristic  of 
mankind  to  elevate  their  own  judgment  to  an  equality, 
oftentimes  above  that  of  their  Maker.  God  created 
the  universe :  man  can  create  nothing.  Measure 
their  moral  attributes  by  the  same  ratio,  and  man  is  to 
God  as  a  dot  to  a  globe  that  would  fill  all  space. 

Ophelia  looked  back  upon  her  season  of  trial  with 
feelings  of  thankfulness.  Her  enforced  march  over 
rough  places  had  developed  a  more  reliable  and  endur 
ing  strength.  Kind  parent!  He  had  seen  her  need  of 
discipline,  and  bestowed  it,  notwithstanding  her  reluct 
ance.  She  had  now  the  strength  to  endure  much 
uncomplainingly,  for  she  began  to  perceive  the  incal 
culable  good  to  be  derived  from  suffering.  Ill  weeds 
grow  apace  in  the  sunny  weather,  as  well  as  the  fruit, 
and  unless  there  is  a  careful  gardener  the  sunshine 
develops  more  ev.il  than  good. 

Both  were  better  for  the  trials  through  which  they 
had  gone,  and  their  love  was  all  the  stronger  for  having 
endured  the  test  of  the  refiner's  crucible.  She  desired 
no  better  fate  than  this, — to  have  his  love,  to  have 

26* 


306  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

the  right  to  love  him  in  return.     This  was  better  than 
wealth  or  fame. 

Are  you  saying  to  yourself,  John,  that  people  are 
interesting  only  in  books?  that,  in  real  life,  they  are 
seldom  anything  but  shallow  and  insipid? 

Oh,  no,  John !  You  have  too  little  faith  in  the 
capabilities  of  humanity.  Oftentimes,  no  doubt,  you 
have  been  thrown  in  direct  contact  with  the  deepest  of 
natures  unawares  ;  and  while  you  sighed  for  a  sympathy 
more  profound  than  the  ordinary  associations  of  life 
afford,  you  have  overlooked  and  passed  unsounded  a 
nature  as  vast  and  illimitable  as  the  sea,  because  the 
mere  surface  gave  no  hint  of  unusual  depth. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   MONOMANIAC. 

MR.  NORTH,  having  become  more  engrossed  in  busi 
ness  matters  than  ever,  after  his  marriage,  was  increasing 
his  wealth  and  importance  at  a  very  rapid  rate.  Per 
sonally  he  was  not  much  liked,  but  it  is  rarely  possible 
for  human  nature  to  maintain  indifference  towards  a 
prospective  millionaire. 

But  suddenly  there  came  a  crash,  and  the  firm  of 
"  North,  Biglow  and  Co."  lay  in  ruins.  I  know  not  how 
it  came.  I  understand  so  little  of  business  matters  that 
the  process  by  which  people  are  reduced  from  affluence 
to  penury  is  but  vaguely  shadowed  forth  in  my  mind. 
But,  notwithstanding  it  appeared  so  massive,  there  must 
have  been  something  insecure  in  the  structure ;  things 
of  good  foundation  and  solid  build  are  not  wont  to 
tumble  down. 

There  were  murmurs  and  execrations  from  the  unfor- 


THE  MONOMANIAC. 


3°7 


tunates  who  were  involved  in  the  loss,  including  most 
of  the  clerks  of  the  establishment ;  and  dark  hints 
of  unrighteous  ways  and  general  rottenness  were 
whispered  abroad.  Corruption  had  begun  in  one  little 
spot :  but  that  little  spot  was  the  core  of  the  establish 
ment,  the  head  of  the  firm, — North  ;  and  rapidly  the 
infection  spread  to  the  junior  members,  to  the  clerks 
and  supernumeraries,  until  the  whole  structure  was  in 
an  unsound  state ;  then  it  fell. 

The  fractured  firm  fell  into  odium  about  town,  as 
fractured  things  are  apt  to  do,  and  after  trying,  vainly,  to 

secure  a  new  footing  in  L ,they  all  scattered  abroad 

to  begin  anew  in  other  places.  North  was  the  last  to  go. 
It  was  thought  that  he  bore  up  under  his  loss  better  than 
any,  he  gave  so  little  sign  of  discomfiture.  Many  who 
had  been  his  most  flattering  friends  in  prosperity  now 
publicly  neglected  him,  and  others  shook  him  cordially 
by  the  hand,  condoled  with  him  on  his  loss,  inquired 
into  the  particulars,  but  made  no  offer  of  assistance. 

All  these  things  he  seemed  to  bear  with  stolid  in 
difference  ;  but  the  hardest  trial  of  all  was  the  kindness 
of  Kingsley,  whom,  in  his  prosperity,  he  had  hated. 
When  Kingsley,  who  wore  an  air  of  good  fortune  and 
prosperity,  offered  to  use  his  power  with  the  press  in  his 
behalf,  or  any  other  power  he  chanced  to  possess,  he 
gave  signs  of  high  indignation,  and  declined  the 
proffered  kindness  in  most  offensive  terms. 

Who  can  picture  the  frenzy  of  the  gold-worshiper 
when  he  sees  his  carefully-hoarded  treasures  swept  away 
as  by  a  single  blast  ?  His  god  was  gone  !  For  it  he  had 
toiled,  early  and  late,  and  from  it  was  all  the  strength 
and  power  of  his  position  derived.  It  had  forsaken 
him,  and  he  had  no  strength  left.  What  use  to  toil  and 
strive  for  that  which  had  wings  no  power  on  earth  could 
fetter,  and  which  might,  at  any  moment,  take  flight  ? 
His  whole  life  had  suddenly  tumbled  into  ruins.  All 
hope  was  gone ;  and  when  the  human  mind  is  bereft  of 
all  hope,  disease  has  begun  upon  it. 


308  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

He  moved  his  family  into  smaller  quarters,  and  then 
began  business  upon  a  smaller  scale,  but  it  seemed  as  if 
his  good  luck,  like  his  hollow  friends,  had  deserted  him 
in  the  hour  of  his  adversity.  For  awhile  he  struggled 
with  his  concealed  misery  and  disappointment,  made 
fourfold  the  harder  to  endure  by  the  discontent  and 
reproaches  of  his  proud  wife,  who,  having  possessed 
nothing  to  lose,  made  all  the  louder  outcry. 

He  grew  peevish  and  cynical  under  continued  mis 
fortune  ;  and  the  rebuffs  of  friends,  who  had  been  all 
smiles  in  the  time  of  good  fortune,  aroused  within  him 
fierce  resentment.  Bought  friendship,  my  dear  North, 
is  proverbially  insecure.  What  a  pity  you  had  not  ex 
ercised  better  judgment  in  the  selection  of  your  friends, 
that  now  you  might  not  be  left  to  breast  the  storm  alone ! 

"Let  us  go  away  from  here!"  exclaimed  his  wife, 
exasperated  by  neglect  and  odious  patronage;  "any 
thing  is  better  than  this  !  I'd  rather  be  where  there 
was  not  a  single  human  being.  Let  us  go  west." 

So  he  gathered  up  his  household  chattels,  and,  taking 
his  wife  and  two  children,  shook  the  dust  of  civilization 
from  off  his  feet.  He  would  get  him  away  from  the 
world  which  reviled  him, — away  from  all  human  kind  ! 
out  of  their  hearing,  out  of  their  reach  ! 

A  week  of  travel  brought  the  wanderers  to  a  strag 
gling  village  upon  the  outskirts  of  Kansas.  But  there 
was  a  semblance  of  civilization  here,  and  Oliver  North 
had  come  to  hate  his  fellow-creatures  to  that  extent  that 
rational  beings  were  not  endurable.  However,  he  was 
not  long  in  finding  a  house  to  his  taste  :  a  log  hut 
set  upon  a  wide  plain,  which  bore  no  other  traces  of 
the  hand  of  man.  They  crammed  the  provisions  and 
furniture  which  they  had  brought  with  them  into  the 
hut,  and  their  life  of  solitude  began. 

He  had  brought  a  horse,  some  farming  implements, 
and  a  book  on  agriculture  ;  with  these  he  went  to  work. 
He  was  awkward  and  unsuccessful  at  first,  but  a  des 
perate  determination  conquers  all  things.  His  desire 


THE  MONOMANIAC. 


3°9 


for  riches  was  dead.  Merely  enough  to  keep  life  in 
their  bodies  would  suffice :  what  use  to  accumulate  for 
the  little  span  of  life  that  was  left?  for  he  felt,  as  did 
David  in  his  misfortunes,  that  there  was  but  a  step 
between  him  and  his  grave. 

It  was  a  broad  field  for  one  pair  of  hands  to  till  alone. 
A  vast  sea  of  unbroken  soil,  it  seemed  to  stretch  away 
into  infinity  upon  all  sides.  A  hollow  dome  of  silence 
and  emptiness  spread  above  it.  No  "world"  here! 
He  was  away  from  it  at  last.  The  great  naked  plain 
had  an  awful  fascination  for  him.  Sometimes  he  would 
stop  his  work,  sit  down  upon  his  plow,  and  watch  the 
monotonous  landscape,  which  had  stood  the  same,  per 
haps,  since  time  began ;  and  which,  he  sometimes 
fancied,  watched  him. 

He  was  not  alone  as  he  stood  solitary  upon  the  prai 
rie.  Within  were  tormentors,  who  whipped  and  lashed 
his  conscience  with  remembrance  of  past  misdeeds. 
What  faces  were  these  which  rose  up  and  mocked  at 
him?  The  faces  of  the  poor  whom  it  had  been  his 
place  to  comfort  and  protect,  but  whom  he  had  op 
pressed  for  gain. 

His  eye  reached  abroad  for  some  object  of  diversion. 
It  swept  the  horizon  :  not  a  grasshopper  !  not  a  fly ! 
Sometimes,  after  long  hours  of  waiting  in  the  brooding 
stillness,  a  startled  look  came  into  his  face,  as  if  he 
fancied  the  long-expected  presence  was  about  to  be 
made  visible ;  and  his  breath  came  short  and  quick  in 
excited  expectancy.  But  when  the  day  began  to 
decline,  and  nothing  answered  his  eager  vigil,  he  would 
shake  his  fist  at  the  unchanging  plain  and  give  vent  to 
his  excited  fancy  in  frenzied  soliloquy. 

The  brooding,  watchful  silence  was  hideous  to  this 
uneasy,  lonely  mind,  which,  having  no  outward  material 
to  feed  upon,  turned  inward  and  fed  upon  itself.  No 
wonder  that  he  sometimes  fled  when  no  man  pursued. 
At  length  he  grew  to  hate  the  naked,  staring  prairie, 
from  whence  sprang  his  horrible  visions. 


310 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


But  wherever  he  turned,  it  was  there  ! 

He  had  no  love  for  his  wife,  nor  she  for  him.  In 
their  days  of  ease  and  luxury  there  had  been  no  affec 
tion  between  them;  she  had  her  children,  and  that 
sufficed  for  her ;  he  had  his  gold,  and  that  sufficed  for 
him.  Now  that  her  children  were  forced  to  endure  the 
hardships  of  poverty,  she  hated  him  as  the  author  of 
their  misfortunes  ;  and  now  that  his  idol  was  gone,  he 
loved  nothing,  and  began  to  hate  the  wife  and  children 
who  tied  him  to  this  accursed  spot.  But  for  them  he 
might  go  back  to  the  world  and  start  afresh. 

One  night  he  dreamed  that  he  had  murdered  them. 
In  the  pale  dawn  he  awoke  and  looked  upon  his  sleep 
ing  charges.  Why  not  kill  them  as  they  slept?  His 
wife  was  a  pious  woman  ;  she  read  her  Bible  and  said 
her  prayers,  and  of  such,  he  supposed,  were  the  king 
dom  of  heaven.  The  children  were  innocent ;  a  life 
of  sin  and  misery  lay  before  them,  from  which  it  would 
be  a  blessing  to  spare  them.  He  called  to  mind  all  he 
had  heard  of  the  delights  of  that  celestial  city  to 
which  the  sacred  dead  were  taken  ;  the  golden  streets, 
the  crystal  streams,  the  peaceful  scenes ;  no  more  sor 
rowing  there.  Could  he  provide  for  his  family  better 
than  by  sending  them  to  that  happy  place? 

He  placed  his  hands  upon  his  head,  and  calmly 
reasoned  the  matter  over.  How  strange  that  no  other 
man  had  thought  of  this  easy  solution  of  a  toiling, 
struggling  life  !  But  it  mattered  not ;  he  needed  no  pre 
cedent  ;  he  had  always  based  his  actions  upon  his  own 
convictions,  and  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
in  this  instance.  Had  his  mind  ever  been  clearer?  his 
reasoning  powers  in  better  condition  ? 

Yes,  he  would  kill  them,  his  resolution  was  fixed  at 
last.  He  crept  to  the  bureau,  and  from  one  of  the 
drawers  took  a  small  dirk,  whose  blade  glistened  in  the 
dim  light.  He  placed  his  hand  firmly  upon  his  wife's 
throat,  and  drew  back  to  strike,  when  her  eyes  flew 
open  with  a  wild  look  of  alarm. 


THE  MONOMANIAC.  311 

"  Do  not  fear,"  he  said  calmly,  "lam  going  to  do  you 
a  great  favor;  one  for  which  you  will  presently  thank  me. 
I  am  going  to  send  you  to  heaven  ;  that  beautiful, 
delightful  place.  What !  not  want  to  go  !  Was  there 
ever  such  ingratitude?  How  she  struggles.  But  she 
shall  go  !  No  more  weeping  there,  sweet  wife.  No 
more  crying  for  jewels,  and  fine  clothes,  and  fretting 
the  whole  day  long.  Ah,  she  is  dead,  at  last !" 

His  eyes  sparkled  as  of  one  frenzied  with  joy.  He 
laughed  a  wild,  loud  laugh,  which  awoke  the  two 
children.  The  eldest  sat  up,  and,  looking  about  with 
vague  horror,  began  to  cry.  He  seized  them  both,  and 
with  an  iron  clutch  upon  each  of  their  little  throats, 
held  .  them  down  until  their  eyes  sprang  from  the 
sockets,  their  tongues  protruded,  and  their  innocent  faces 
blackened.  \Vhen  they  lay  quite  still,  he  stood  up  and 
contemplated  his  work  with  a  glaring,  unsatisfied  eye. 

How  horrible  the  scene  !  As  he  looked  at  the  dis 
torted  faces  a  sudden  fear  seized  him.  He  searched  the 
whole  room  minutely ;  there  was.  no  one  there.  Then  he 
lit  a  torch,  and  set  fire  to  the  bed  upon  which  his  dead 
lay.  When  he  saw  the  flames  creeping  around  the 
corpses,  he  proceeded  methodically  to  gather  up  his 
best  clothes,  his  wife's  jewels,  and  some  provisions, 
and  pack  them  into  a  valise. 

By  the  time  he  had  accomplished  this  the  house  was 
in  flames,  and  he  started  hurriedly  to  the  little  shed 
where  he  kept  his  only  horse.  He  saddled  it,  fastened 
on  his  valise,  and  mounting,  started  briskly  over  the 
prairie.  The  sun  was  up,  and  a  brazen  wall  glittered 
in  the  east.  What  a  strange  sky  !  Was  it  the  reflec 
tion  of  his  burning  wife  and  children  ?  He  turned 
and  looked  back,  almost  expecting  to  see  their  bodies 
ascending  from  the  funeral  pile. 

Hold  !  what  was  that  prowling  in  the  yard  ?  A  spy ! 
But  he  should  not  spy  long.  There  should  be  no 
witnesses  left  upon  the  earth  to  bring  this  thing  to  light. 
He  would  steal  back  and  kill  this  skulking  prowler. 


312 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE, 


He  fastened  his  horse  to  a  hazel-twig,  and  stealthily 
approached  the  house.  But  there  was  no  one  there. 
It  was  only  the  old  pump,  from  which  he  had  daily 
drawn  water.  He  had  forgotten  the  old  pump.  He  set 
fire  to  it,  too,  and  to  the  horse's  shed.  The  strong  winds 
which  swept  the  prairie  would  soon  sweep  the  ashes  away, 
and  there  would  be  nothing  left  to  tell  the  tale.  He 
forgot  the  bones  !  He  watched  his  little  home  crumble 
into  ashes,  and  then  set  his  face  toward  the  east. 

At  noon  he  came  to  a  strip  of  timber,  with  a  small 
stream  running  through  it.  Here  he  watered  his  horse, 
tied  up  his  bridle  so  that  he  might  graze,  and  sat  down 
to  his  own  dinner.  His  morning's  work  had  made 
him  ravenous,  and  he  ate  voraciously.  Suddenly  the 
sharp  report  of  a  gun  or  pistol  rang  upon  the  air.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  hastened  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  and  saw  a  man  picking  up  a  squirrel  from  the 
ground. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked  of  the  man. 

"  I  live  here,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

"  Where  is  your  house?" 

The  man  pomted  to  a  little  hut  of  skins  at  some  dis 
tance.  "I  was  tired  of  life,"  he  said;  "I  came  here 
to  be  alone,  that  I  might  disturb  no  one  with  my 
misery." 

"  Tired  of  life  !  And  if  you  were  to  die,  perhaps  you 
would  be  more  miserable  still ;  you  might  go  to  hell !" 

"There  is  no  such  place  as  hell,"  returned  the 
hermit.  "  The  canting  hypocrites  say  there  is  a  hell, 
to  scare  you  into  joining  their  church,  and  contribut 
ing  to  their  comfort  and  glory.  God  is  a  merciful 
God.  He  punishes  us  here  on  earth,  but  hereafter  he 
administers  no  punishments.  I  am  not  afraid  that  I 
shall  not  be  saved  when  I  die." 

"You  are  sure  that  you  will  go  to  that  beautiful 
place  called  heaven?" 

"I  am  sure  that  God  will  make  me  happy  in  the 
next  world." 


THE  MONOMANIAC. 


313 


"Foolish,  foolish  man!"  exclaimed  the  madman; 
"  then  why  do  you  continue  to  live  in  this  world  of 
strife  and  confusion?  But  rejoice!  for  your  miseries 
are  now  at  an  end  :"  and  he  snatched  out  his  dirk  and 
stabbgd  him. 

"Oh,  God,  have  mercy  on  my  soul!"  shrieked  the 
man,  and  fell  down  and  died. 

The  methodical  madman  searched  his  victim's 
pockets,  and  found  a  gold  watch  and  a  slim  pocket- 
book,  both  of  which  he  transferred  to  his  own.  Then 
he  hurried  back  to  his  horse,  and,  after  gathering  up 
the  fragments  of  his  dinner,  set  forth  again  toward 
the  east.  The  wood  seemed,  to  his  excited  fancy,  to 
resound  with  shrieks,  but  he  gathered  up  the  last  morsel 
before  starting. 

As  he  galloped  madly  across  the  plain,  the  instinct 
of  carnage  was  upon  him.  Blood,  blood,  human 
blood  alone,  would  satiate  his  thirst !  Away  to  the 
crowded  marts  of  civilization,  where  there  were  millions 
of  beating  hearts  to  stifle,  millions  of  unsatisfied  souls 
to  send  forth  into  the  vague  unknown  !  On,  on  he 
urged  his  horse,  until  the  poor  beast  staggered ;  a  few 
steps  farther,  and  it  falls,  dying.  He  unstrapped  his 
valise,  and  hurried  on  afoot. 

Wearied  with  continued  exertion  and  weakened  by 
famine,  he  at  last  arrived  at  Fort  Scott.  Here,  after 
satisfying  his  hunger,  he  took  the  cars  and  sped  away 
towards  St.  Louis.  There  he  exchanged  his  dusty 
clothes  for  those  he  carried  in  his  valise,  sold  the  valise 
and  old  clothes  to  one  of  the  waiters  at  the  hotel, 
and  then  sallied  forth,  looking  his  old,  pompous  self 
again,  to  dispose  of  his  jewels. 

On  the  street  he  met  an  old  acquaintance,  and 
seemed  very  glad  to  see  him.  He  related  his  misfortunes 
to  his  acquaintance,  who  condoled  with  him  and  ex 
pressed  it  as  his  opinion  that  this  life  was  a  miserable 
affair,  at  best,  and  that  the  sooner  we  got  through  with 
it  the  better. 

o  27 


3 14  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

"I  agree  with  you  there,"  returned  North;  and 
immediately  set  about  decoying  him  into  a  stable, 
where  he  stabbed  him. 

"  Here  is  another  soul !"  he  said  to  the  Invisible  as 
the  man  gave  his  last  gasp.  He  hunted  up  the  stable- 
keeper,  to  whom  he  said,  "  Strange  cattle  you  keep  in 
your  stalls ;  did  you  know  there  was  a  dead  man  in 
that  last  one  ?  ' ' 

"  No  !"   exclaimed  the  stable-keeper,  incredulously. 

North  coolly  exhibited  his  victim,  and  advised  the 
stable-keeper  to  report  to  the  authorities  immediately. 
While  this  was  being  done  and  a  crowd  gathering, 
North  made  his  way  to  the  wharf,  crossed  the  river  in 
the  ferry-boat,  and  took  passage  on  the  first  train  for  the 
east. 

The  first  person  he  met  upon  arriving  at  L — —  was 
Ripley.  Ripley  was  much  stouter  than  of  yore,  and 
bore  about  him  an  air  of  sleek  and  complacent  pros 
perity.  He  pretended  not  to  recognize  North,  and 
was  about  to  pass  him  ;  but  North  stepped  resolutely 
before  him  and  offered  his  hand.  "How  goes  the 
world  with  you?"  was  his  greeting. 

"Oh,  prosperously,  happily!"  returned  Ripley,  com 
placently. 

North's  countenance  fejl.    "You  are  not  married?" 

"Married!  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ripley,  briskly;  "some 
time  since  !  Do  you  remember  Fischer,  the  wealthy 
iron-foundry  man?  I  married  his  daughter." 

"  Indeed  !  and  what  has  become  of  Ophelia  Berges?" 

"Regret  to  say  I  have  no  idea,"  replied  Ripley, 
carelessly.  "  I  believe  I  saw  her  at  the  opera  with 
Kingsley  some  time  ago  ;  no  doubt  he  can  inform  you. " 

"And  you  do  not  know  where  she's  staying?  per 
haps  she's  .married  ?" 

"Why?"  interrogated  Ripley,  sarcastically.  "Are 
you  a  widower?" 

"I  am,"  returned  North,  mournfully.  "My  wife 
and  both  of  the  children  died  of  fever  in  Kansas ;  a 


THE  MONOMANIAC.  315 

terrible  fever  that  burned  them  up.  But  they  are  much 
better  off  where  they  are." 

"  Ah,  I  had  not  heard,"  said  Ripley,  looking  at  him 
curiously.  "  That  was  unfortunate  indeed  !  You  will 
have  to  excuse  me  now,  North.  I  should  be  delighted 
to  talk  to  you  longer,  but  business  is  pressing.  I  have 
an  engagement  at  ten,  and  it  is  past  that  now.  By  the 
way,  I  believe  I  heard  some  one  say  that  Ophelia  was 
staying  at  Harper's,  on  B street,  you  remember." 

North  turned  and  looked  after  him  as  he  sped  away. 

"  One  happy  man  in  the  world,"  he  soliloquized. 
"Let  him  live — let  the  fool  live  !  I  find  no  pleasure 
in  molesting  flies.  I  am  not  a  wicked  murderer.  I 
only  send  the  souls  of  the  unhappy  to  a  place  of  rest. 
I  am  a  philanthropist ;  I  have  taken  into  my  hands  a 
great  work  for  the  world — that  of  ridding  it  of  the 
miserable,  and  of  depositing  their  souls  into  a  place 
of  eternal  happiness.  But  it  is  a  very,  very  ungrateful 
world." 

That  afternoon  he  called  on  Ophelia.  "  Why,  it  is 
Mr.  North  !"  she  exclaimed,  after  looking  at  him  a 
few  moments  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  in  a  sad  tone,  "  it  is  Mr.  North." 

She  was  the  same  Ophelia,  only  a  little  thinner,  and 
a  little  more  cordial  in  her  manner.  Old  memories 
came  trooping  back  to  the  warped  and  unsettled  mind. 
His  face  softened,  and  the  glittering  eye  grew  dreamy 
and  abstracted.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  divan,  and 
sat  for  a  long  time  without  saying  a  word.  Ophelia 
interrupted  his  reverie  by  inquiring  after  his  family. 

"  My  family  !"  he  started  strangely.  "  They  are  all 
dead  !" 

"Poor  fellow!"  thought  Ophelia ;  "no  wonder  he 
acts  strangely." 

She  expressed  her  sympathy  with  great  feeling. 

"  I  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it,"  he  said  in  reply. 
"  You  have  no  idea  how  hard.  Those  prairies  nearly 
killed  me." 


31 6  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

He  seemed  to  be  conscious  that  there  was  something 
wrong  in  his  actions,  and  occasionally  begged  her  to 
excuse  him ;  said  that  ill  health  and  trouble  had  nearly 
driven  him  mad. 

"Ah,  Ophelia,  if  you  had  been  true  to  me,  nothing 
of  this  would  have  happened.  I  would  still  have  been 
a  prosperous  man.  If  you  would  love  me  now,  Ophelia, 
all  would  be  well.  I  would  soon  be  rich  again.  You 
are  not  going  to  marry  any  one  else?" 

Ophelia  was  obliged  to  confess  that  she  was. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  inquired,  eagerly;   "Kingsley?" 

She  admitted  that  it  was  Kingsley. 

"Indeed  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  animation,  "  I  always 
liked  Kingsley.  Where  is  he  boarding?  I  should  like 
to  call  on  him.  I  always  liked  Kingsley,  you  know." 

Ophelia  did  not  say  that  she  did  not  know  he  had 
always  liked  Kingsley,  but  gave  him  the  desired  address : 
after  which  he  took  his  departure.  "  How  strange  he 
is  !"  she  said,  as  she  stood  by  the  window,  looking  after 
him  with  a  puzzled  countenance.  "And  I  was  once  to 
have  been  that  man's  wife  !" 

She  shuddered  involuntarily,  then  laughed  and  ran 
up-stairs  to  tell  Mrs.  Harper  of  her  singular  offer. 

Kingsley  was  very  much  surprised  at  receiving  a  visit 
from  Mr.  North.  "  He  looks  badly  and  acts  strangely," 
he  said  to  Ophelia  the  evening  after.  "  It  seems  that 
Kansas  did  not  agree  with  him." 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  Ophelia;  "his  wife  and  children 
died  out  there." 

"  They  did?"  exclaimed  Kingsley,  in  surprise.  "He 
did  not  tell  me  of  that.  If  I  am  not  much  mistaken, 
he  told  me  they  were  all  well.  I  never  liked  North." 

"I  did,  once  upon  a  time,"  returned  Ophelia,  with 
a  smile. 

Her  lover  frowned.  "You  never  cared  very  much 
for  him,  Ophelia,  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"No,  and  if  I  had  known  him,  I  should  not  have 
cared  even  so  much  as  I  did." 


THE  MONOMANIAC.  3^ 

If  they  could  only  have  seen  the  subject  of  their  con 
versation  glaring  upon  them  through  the  thin  lace  cur 
tain  of  the  parlor  window,  and  heard  his  soliloquy  as 
he  hurried  along  the  street ! 

"  Shall  I  kill  him,  and  send  his  soul  into  an  eternity 
of  bliss  ?  No  !  she  would  pity  him,  and  mourn  over 
him,  and  love  him  more  than  ever.  It  would  be  mur 
der,  too,  to  send  an  unwilling  soul  to  judgment;  and  I 
am  no  murderer.  No  !  his  fate  shall  be  worse  than 
death.  He  shall  live,  separated  from  her  forever — an 
outlaw  !  a  condemned  criminal !" 

He  slackened  his  pace,  and  his  head  drooped  upon 
his  breast  in  deep  reflection.  "  Poor  old  Norton  !"  he 
muttered,  at  length,  "  Who  ever  pitied  him  while  he 
lived  ?  Who  ever  found  anything  in  him  to  praise  or 
admire  until  he  was  dead  ?  Dead  by  the  murderer's 
hand  !  Then  what  a  caucus  of  notabilities  over  his 
carcass !  what  a  gathering  of  the  nations  to  see  the 
martyred  innocent !  How  his  meagre  virtues  were  mag 
nified  !  how  many  which  he  had  never  possessed  were 
attributed  to  him  !  He  had  been  a  rich  man,  too,  and 
unfortunate.  No,  no  !  /  must  be  the  martyr !  I'll 
send  forth  my  own  soul  in  search  of  those  liberated  from 
this  vile  life  by  my  own  hand.  But  Kingsley  must 
suffer  for  it ;  is  he  better  than  I,  that  he  should  have 
what  I,  in  my  best  days,  never  possessed — happiness? 
/'//rectify  this  wrong!" 

He  slept  none  that  night,  but  wandered  up  and  down 
the  street  until  a  policeman  suggested  that  he  had  better 
get  himself  indoors.  Then  he  went  to  his  hotel,  and 
sat  pondering  the  matter  until  dawn.  The  thought  of 
wreaking  vengeance  upon  the  man  who  had  succeeded 
where  he  had  failed  swallowed  up  all  remembrance  of 
his  philanthropic  work  of  weeding  the  world  of  un 
healthy  souls.  This  was  an  individual  scheme,  and 
over-topped  the  former,  as  all  personal  affairs  rise  above 
general,  in  the  mind  of  the  selfish. 

The  day  following  he  spent  in  talking  with  whoevei 
27* 


3lS  UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 

of  his  acquaintances  he  could  get  to  listen  to  him. 
To  each  he  said :  "  And  so  Kingsley  and  Ophelia 
Berges  are  to  be  married.  He  is  not  worthy  of  her;" 
and  hinted  darkly  of  the  things  which  he  could  divulge, 
to  Kingsley's  eternal  ruin,  if  he  was  so  minded. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  Ophelia,"  he  would  say, 
"  though  she  treated  me  very  shabbily  once.  Kingsley 
is  a  sly,  cunning  scoundrel !  Perhaps  I'll  tell  her  yet." 

About  nine  o'clock  that  night  he  called  on  Kingsley 
at  his  room;  found  him  reading;  laid  aside  his  hat 
and  seated  himself,  at  Kingsley's  invitation,  and  talked 
very  fluently, — advancing  some  rather  odd  ideas.  For 
awhile  Kingsley,  though  not  disposed  to  conversation, 
for  the  sake  of  politeness  attempted  to  throw  in  a  re 
mark  here  and  there ;  but  he  soon  observed  that  it  was 
not  necessary, 'as  North  entirely  ignored  them,  and  de 
sisted.  For  three  hours  North  sustained  his  singular 
soliloquy,  which  his  listener  observed  to  be  methodic 
ally  divided  into  separate  parts. 

First,  that  we  have  always  existed :  being  creatures 
of  eternity,  which  can  no  more  have  a  beginning  than 
it  can  have  an  ending.  Secondly,  that  this  life  is  only 
a  short  phase,  detached  from  the  immensity  of  our  ex 
istence  for  the  purpose  of  punishment,  because  of 
some  error  committed  in  that  former  life.  Thirdly, 
that  no  human  being  can  die  until  he  has  suffered ;  and, 
having  suffered  to  the  extent  of  despair,  it  matters  not 
how  soon,  nor  how,  he  dies.  Fourthly,  that,  being 
dead,  his  soul  goes  back  to  its  former  life  and  its  former 
body,  and  the  shell  which  it  has  inhabited  here  simply 
falls  back  into  its  original  state  of  dust.  Fifthly,  that 
throughout  the  eternity  of  time  to  come  we  may  be 
banished,  again  and  again,  to  this  planet  and  to  that, 
until  we  have,  in  turn,  inhabited  every  planet  of  the 
universe,  which  is  not  merely  bounded  by  that  portion 
of  creation  of  which  we  have  cognizance.  The  final 
grand  climax  being  that  the  soul  which  dares  to  return 
unsumrhoned  to  its  original  estate  can  only  be  trans- 


THE  MONOMANIAC. 


3J9 


ferred  to  another  planet  for  the  completion  of  its  trial, 
— such  worlds  as  the  earth  being  the  only  hell  contained 
in  all  the  universe. 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve  he  arose  to  take  his  leave, 
begging  to  be  excused  for  his  protracted  stay,  and  ex 
claiming  wonderingly  over  Phe  rapid  flight  of  time. 
At  the  door  he  turned  suddenly,  and  asked  Kingsley 
if  he  had  a  pistol.  "I  am  going  into  a  strange  coun 
try  for  a  few  days,  and  may  have  use  for  one.  I  never 
had  one  of  my  own." 

Kingsley  brought  out  a  small  revolver  from  his  ward 
robe,  and  handed  it  to  North.  "Where  are  you 
going?"  he  inquired. 

Mr.  North  drew  nearer  the  light  to  examine  it.  "  It 
is  all  loaded,"  he  said,  with  a  queer  smile.  "Where 
am  I  going  ?  Kingsley,  you  will  be  wanting  to  come, 
too,  before  long.  Perhaps  you  will  come,  but  it  will 
be  by  another  route, — the  gallows!" 

Kingsley  reached  his  hand  for  the  pistol,  but  it  was 
too  late ! — the  contents  of  one  barrel  were  already  in 
his  singular  visitor's  breast. 

The  report  of  the  pistol  and  the  sound  of  the  falling 
body  roused  the  whole  house.  Kingsley  was  raising 
the  gasping  man  and  calling  his  name  in  a  horrified 
tone,  when  there  came  a  clatter  of  feet  along  the  hall, 
and  a  banging  at  the  door.  Perceiving  that  no  one 
entered,  he  dropped  the  body,  and  went  to  open  the 
door.  It  was  locked,  and  the  key  gone  ! 

While  he  searched  the  room  for  the  key,  the  banging 
and  requests  for  admittance  grew  louder  and  louder. 
"Wait  a  moment,  friends,"  he  called  out;  "the  door 
is  locked,  and  I  can't  find  the  key." 

After  searching  the  whole  room  minutely,  he  found  it 
in  North's  pocket.  He  opened  the  door,  and  let  in  a 
crowd  of  horrified  men  and  terror-stricken  women. 
Among  the  latter  was  the  landlady,  who  shrieked  that 
her  house  was  disgraced  forever  !  that  its  irreproach 
able  name,  as  the  quietest  and  most  select  and  re- 


320  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

spectable  boarding-house  in  the  city,  was  ruined ! 
and  much  more  to  the  same  effect ;  while  the  men 
divided  their  attention  between  the  dying  man  and 
the  composed  but  troubled-looking  owner  of  the  room. 

"The  man  shot  himself, — for  what  purpose  God 
alone  knows,"  he  exclaimed,  in  reply  to  their  inquiries. 
"  We  had  no  quarrel,  no  hard  feelings,  as  far  as  I  know. 
I  have  no  idea  why  he  came  here  to  kill  himself.  He 
was  crazy,  probably." 

An  inquest  was  held,  and  Kingsley  arrested, — "  as  a 
matter  of  form,"  the  officers  said;  but  they  looked 
very  suspiciously  at  the  blood  upon  his  sleeve,  and  took 
charge  of  the  pistol.  He  immediately  dispatched  a 
note  to  Ophelia:  "Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  wrote; 
"North  shot  himself  in  my  room  last  night,  and  I  am 
under  arrest.  Of  course  I  shall  be  released  as  soon  as 
the  trial  comes  off." 

I  do  not  propose  to  go  through  the  tedious  details 
of  this  trial,  nor  to  relate  at  length  the  unexpected 
array  of  evidence  which  the  cunning  lunatic  had  de 
vised  for  the  ruin  of  his  unsuspecting  victim. 

By  this  pre-arranged  evidence  it  was  proven,  through 
the  testimony  of  several  reliable  witnesses,  that  North 
and  Kingsley  were  not  upon  good  terms  ;  that  they  had 
been,  and  were  still,  rivals ;  that  North  was  in  pos 
session  of  some  secret  knowledge  of  a  disagreeable,  per 
haps  disgraceful,  nature  against  Kingsley,  which,  if 
divulged,  would  bring  him  to  grief.  In  truth,  the 
firmament  looked  dark  for  Kingsley. 

Ophelia  Berges,  being  summoned  to  the  witness- 
stand,  confessed  that  she  had  formerly  been  engaged  to 
Mr.  North,  and  that  she  was  now  engaged  to  Mr. 
Kingsley,  but  denied  that  the  latter  had  anything 
whatever  to  do  with  breaking  the  former  engagement. 
Also  stated  that  North  had  acted  very  strangely,  and 
told  different  stories  in  regard  to  his  family,  at  one 
time  saying  they  were  dead,  at  another  that  they  were  in 
Kansas ;  and  gave  it  as  her  belief  that  he  was  deranged. 


THE  MONOMANIAC. 


321 


Mr.  Jenkins,  a  brother-in-law  of  North's,  deposed 
that  North  had  informed  him  of  the  death  of  his  family 
by  fever,  and  of  their  interment  in  Kansas,  alleging 

that  he  had  come  to  L for  the  purpose  of  making 

arrangements  in  regard  to  their  removal  to  the  cemetery 
of  that  city. 

Another  witness — an  insignificant  little  witness — was 
discovered  in  North's  pocket, — a  letter  addressed,  in  a 

lady's  hand,  to  a  well  known  citizen  of  L ,  who 

had  been  for  some  time  missing;  also,  a  memorandum- 
book  belonging  to  the  same  individual.  The  letter 
.  was  one  of  those  innocent-looking  but  deadly  weapons 
— fit  representatives  of  feminine  inconstancy  and  cru- 
elty^with  which  the  heartless  belle  disposes  of  a  trou 
blesome  devotee.  The  refined  cruelty  with  which  she 
inflicts  a  punishment,  of  whose  severity  she  has  no 
conception,  and  with  sweet  resignation  washes  her 
hands  of  the  whole  affair,  was  plainly  depicted  in  that 
letter;  and  a  certain  gay  belle,  placidly  reading  the 
morning's  paper  in  her  own  boudoir,  felt  her  blood 
suddenly  turn  cold  as  her  eye  fell  upon  it  in  the  printed 
columns;  but,  happily,  the  signature  had  been  omitted, 
and  her  composure  was  soon  restored.  It  troubled  her 
little  what  had  become  of  "poor  Beverly,"  so  that  her 
own  falsity  was  concealed. 

From  "poor  Beverly's"  memoranda  he  was  traced, 
by  his  family,  to  his  hermitage  upon  the  plains,  where 
his  hut  and  his  bones  were  discovered.  Another  de 
tachment,  composed  of  Mrs.  North's  relatives,  set  out 
for  Kansas,  where,  after  diligent  search,  the  ashes  of 
the  little  cabin  home,  with  the  bleaching  bones  of  its 
inmates,  were  discovered  upon  the  wide  prairie. 

In  the  mean  time  detectives  from  St.  Louis  were 
upon  his  track,  and  finally  identified  him  as  the  perpe 
trator  of  the  mysterious  murder  committed  there  a 
short  time  before  in  a  livery-stable. 

Kingsley  was  released  from  confinement,  but  his 
faith  in  human  friendship  was  utterly  demoralized, 
o* 


322 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


Ophelia,  and  her  friends  the  Harpers,  alone  had 
stood  by  him  under  the  cloud  of  suspicion  which  had 
for  awhile  overhung  his  character  and  name.  He  was 
tired  of  the  place  and  all  its  people.  He  was  tired, 
too,  of  his  harassing  and  ill-remunerated  position  as 
editor;  tired  of  the  continued  drain  upon  his  mind, — 
the  daily  cry  for  "copy," — and  he  determined  to 
resign,  and  seek  employment  in  a  more  lucrative  and 
more  congenial  field. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

LOVE     IN     A    COTTAGE. 

THIS  pretty  white  cottage,  John,  with  a  veranda  in 
front  overrun  with  vines,  and  a  graveled  walk  over 
arched  with  wide-spreading  evergreens,  reaching  from 
the  front  gate  to  the  door,  is  the  home  of  the  Kingsleys. 
They  had  a  quiet  wedding  at  Mrs.  Harper's,  and  no 
tour,  except  to  this  sequestered  spot  in  the  pretty  village 

of  B .  Kingsley  has  a  professorship  in  the  college, 

and  entered  upon  his  new  duties  the  week  following  his 
marriage. 

It  all  seems  very  strange  to  Ophelia, — this  being 
married.  She  appears  to  herself,  as  she  sits  at  the 
study  window  watching  for  her  husband's  return,  not 
her  old  prosaic  self,  but  an  enchanted  princess  trans 
ported  to  a  castle  of  dreams.  How  had  all  this  happi 
ness  come  about? — this  sublime  content,  which  it  seems 
to  her  that  nothing  could  ever  disturb? 

But  she  was  in  no  mood  to  analyze.  A  book  rested 
in  her  lap,  though  she  was  not  reading.  Her  mind 
was  too  full  of  her  own  teeming  thoughts.  She  looked 
out  upon  the  grassy  lawn,  the  towering  trees,  with 
glimpses  of  balmy  sky  peering  through  the  interstices, 


LOVE  IN  A    COTTAGE. 


323 


with  a  sense  of  dreamy  ecstasy,  which  was  heightened 
by  the  unusual  beauty  of  the  evening. 

Just  as  she  had  fixed  her  wandering  thoughts  upon 
the  open  page  before  her,  there  was  a  familiar  step 
upon  the  graveled  walk.  She  did  not  run  to  meet 
him,  but  only  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  serene  con 
tent  to  catch  the  glance  of  dark  eyes  which  ever  bright 
ened  as  they  met  hers,  as  if  a  new  light  had  entered 
them.  She  does  not  even  rise  as  he  enters;  but  as  he 
bends  over  and  touches  her  lips  with  a  pressure  that  is 
deeper  and  more  fervent  than  of  yore,  she  pats  his 
cheek  and -utters  some  term  of  endearment  invented  by 
Adam  or  Eve,  perhaps,  in  the  imbecile  days  of  their 
honeymoon. 

He  sits  down  by  her,  and,  taking  the  book  from  her 
hand,  inquires  how  she  has  spent  the  afternoon,  and 
relates,  in  return,  whatever  of  interest  had  occurred  in 
his  own  experience.  All  the  petty  vexations  which  are 
sure  to  transpire  in  the  life  of  every  human  being  he 
left  at  the  gate,  and  hers  vanished  at  the  first  glance  of 
those  eloquent  eyes,  eyes  that  were  full  of  magnanimity 
and  strength,  such  as  inspire  confidence  and  peace. 

How  strange  she  was!  How  new  and  interesting! 
How  different  from  all  other  women  whom  he  had  ever 
known !  Her  dainty  shyness,  which  held  all  her  deep 
est  thoughts  and  feelings  in  reserve,  did  not  displease 
him.  He  was  not  shy  nor  reserved,  but  revealed  every 
thought,  and  thus  gently  led  the  way  to  those  deep 
confidences  which,  with  reserved  natures,  can  be 
reached  only  through  the  deepest  sympathy.  How 
unfathomable  and  intense  was  the  nature  he  had  once 
thought  so  shallow  and  chill !  He  could  not  conceal 
his  surprise  at  the  sort  of  mind  she  had  and  the  extent 
of  her  love  for  him.  He  grew  humble  under  the  soft 
ening  influence  of  his  great  happiness, — for  how  had 
he  merited  so  great  a  blessing? — and  began  to  love  her 
pious  ways,  which  had  at  one  time  threatened  to  keep 
them  forever  asunder. 


324 


UNDER    THE   SURFACE. 


And  she,  a  new  world  was  spread  out  before  her. 
The  little  fields  of  fancy,  of  thought  and  feeling,  which 
she  had  explored  over  and  over  again,  expanded  into 
wide  vistas  under  the  guidance  of  her  bold  companion. 
His  more  daring  mind  led  her  forth  into  the  illimitable 
universe  of  thought,  upon  whose  strange  and  vast  do 
mains  the  feminine  mind  is  too  timid  and  cautious  to 
venture  in  solitude. 

It  is  man's  prerogative  to  hew  paths  through  the 
primeval  forests  of  thought,  after  which  woman  may 
smooth,  elaborate,  and  beautify.  The  feminine  imagi 
nation  may  be  vivid,  but  it  is  seldom  creative.  Their 
minds  oftentimes  take  strong  and  deep  hold  upon  that 
which  is  presented  to  their  view,  but  make  few  voyages 
of  discovery. 

'  She  began  to  understand  how  comprehensive  and  in 
exhaustible  is  the  human  mind ;  as  full  of  the  capacity 
for  variation  as  the  human  countenance,  and  yet  as 
fixed  in  its  laws  of  similitude ;  as  insatiable  as  the  sea, 
which  devours  all  the  streams  of  the  world  and  yet  is 
not  full.  Yea,  more  insatiable  than  the  sea,  which  is 
drained  by  fogs  and  vapors,  losing  as  much  as  it  gains, 
while  the  mind  expands  and  expands,  taking  in  every 
thing,  yet  losing  nothing. 

Under  the  inspiration  of  congenial  companionship 
and  the  rapture  of  a  full  and  free  interchange  of  thought, 
Ophelia's  real,  intense,  earnest,  magnanimous  nature 
came  to  the  surface,  and  shone  in  the  light  of  an  indus 
trious,  charitable,  and  loving  life. 

The  book  which  she  had  been  reading  was  the  Bible, 
and  as  he  fluttered  the  leaves  idly  she  proffered  a  re 
quest  which  had  been  in  her  mind  for  some  time  before, 
that  he  should  read  a  chapter  to  her  every  evening — 
she  loved  so  much  to  hear  him  read. 

He  consented  without  demur,  and  forthwith  selected 
one  of  the  chapters  from  the  pithy  Book  of  Job ;  after 
which  they  entered  into  a  lively  discussion  upon  the 
prominent  characteristics  of  the  sorely  chastened  sage. 


LOVE   IN  A    CO TTA GE. 


325 


Upon  all  biblical  questions  Ophelia  rose  superior  to 
her  husband,  whose  magnanimous  spirit  yielded  the 
palm  without  hesitancy.  All  her  life — especially  in  its 
troubled  portions — Ophelia  had  been  an  earnest  student 
of  the  Bible,  and  this  gave  to  her  opinions  and  manner 
an  earnestness  and  force  which  nothing  but  the  study 
of  irrefragable  truth  could  have  given  it,  and  which 
could  not  fail  to  impress. 

"  Oh,"  have  your  way,"  he  said,  in  conclusion. 
"  That  I  have  you,  Ophelia,  contents  me  to  that  extent 
that  I  feel  inclined  to  be  easily  satisfied  in  regard  to  all 
other  rights  and  privileges."  And  then  he  stretched 
himself  upon  the  smoking-lounge,  and  pretended  to 
grumble  that  he  was  irretrievably  allied  to  "a  pious 
little  prig"  who  was  forever  urging  him  into  desperate 
attempts  at  reform,  and  disturbing  his  ease  with  extor 
tionate  demands  upon  his  capacity  for  improvement, 
and  who  was  likely  to  go  on  and  on,  urging  him  into 
responsibilities,  self-sacrifices,  and  mortifications,  until 
every  vestige  of  his  freedom  should  be  gone,  and  the 
whole  of  his  time  consumed  in  reading  his  Bible,  saying 
prayers,  and  playing  the  good  Samaritan  generally. 
And  where  was  her  guarantee  that  all  these  investments 
of  time  and  energy  were  to  result  in  anything  beneficial 
to  his  interests? 

Then  Ophelia  made  reply:  "  *  If  ye  live  after  the 
flesh,  ye  shall  die ;  but  if  ye  through  the  Spirit  do 
mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live.  For  as 
many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  are  the 
children  of  God:  and  if  children,  then  heirs;  heirs 
of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with  Christ;  if  so  be  that  we 
surfer  with  him,  that  we  may  be  also  glorified  to 
gether.'  ' 

Furthermore,  she  explained  her  view  of  religion  as 
consisting  in  sacrificing  z.few  of  the  pleasures  of  this 
world,  such  as  are  hurtful  to  ourselves  and  displeasing 
to  God,  to  obtain  an  eternity  of  bliss :  accepting  what 
ever  good  fortune  may  accrue  from  our  endeavors  with 
28 


326  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

gratitude,  and  whatever  misfortunes  may  chance  to 
befal  with  patient  endurance ;  proving  ourselves  stead 
fast  through  seasons  of  gloom  as  in  seasons  of  sunshine 
and  rejoicing.  With  all  that,  having  done  nothing  but 
repay  the  debt  of  gratitude  and  service  due  the  Author 
of  our  being :  if  we  are  saved,  it  is  a  gift  of  God,  and 
not  a  reward  that  we  have  earned. 

Sometimes  he  treated  her  as  a  child  of  whom  he  was 
fond,  but  whom  he  loved  to  tease;  at  others  he  ac 
corded  her  a  reverential  affection,  as  to  one  far  above 
him.  And  while  she  deferred  to  his  superior  judgment 
in  all  relating  to  worldly  concerns,  he  willingly  sub 
mitted  to  her  spiritual  guidance. 

She  did  not  often  speak  to  him  of  religion,  save 
through  the  beauty  of  a  pure  and  godly  life, — an  argu 
ment  more  forcible  and  drastic  than  any  words  she 
could  have  uttered.  She  neglected  none  of  her  former 
observances,  but  went  to  church  regularly,  read  her 
Bible,  and  prayed  "as  aforetime." 

Often  they  had  their  little  debates  over  the  chapters 
which  he  read,  and  I  doubt  not  Kingsley  was  much 
surprised  at  the  wonderful  things  he  found  in  the  grand 
Book  of  Books,  which  he  had  studied  so  little  before. 

Marriage  did  not  put  an  end  to  all  their  trials,  but 
they  always  kept  near  each  other  in  heart  and  mind, 
and  never  allowed  diverse  opinions,  nor  that  bane  of 
married  life,  gradual  estrangement,  to  mar  their  domes 
tic  happiness.  Each  had  that  strong  capacity  for  loving 
which  disdains  a  lukewarm  affection,  and  that  exclu- 
siveness  of  devotion  which,  fixing  itself  upon  one  ob 
ject,  will  have  none  other.  Under  the  fervor  of  his 
affection,  Ophelia's  metallic  nature  melted  into  the  ten- 
derest  pliancy.  Her  mind  was  like  wax  in  his  hands, 
and  her  moods  always  took  their  character  from  his. 

There  were  trials  upon  trials  of  patience  and  confi 
dence,  but  what  cared  they  for  trials  ?  They  loved  each 
other,  they  trusted  the  Master, — what  upon  earth  had 
power  to  do  them  harm  ?  Love  and  trust  make  strong. 


LOVE  IN  A    COTTAGE. 


327 


It  is  the  want  of  these  which  undermines  the  very  foun 
dation  of  strength. 

As  a  slender  rivulet  increases  in  strength  and  volume 
as  it  speeds  onward,  until  it  is  swollen  into  a  mighty 
stream,  so  life,  as  it  advances,  gathers  more  joys  and 
more  sorrows,  deeper  thoughts  and  wider  views,  and, 
more  than  all,  nobler,  higher  aims. 

I  do  not  wish  to  mislead  you,  John,  into  the  suppo 
sition  that  the  Kingsleys  stepped  immediately  from 
poverty  into  affluence  and  ease,  or  that  Ophelia  re 
sumed  her  old  luxurious  and  indolent  habits  of  life. 
She  had  somewhat  else  to  do  besides  read,  practice 
elaborate  sonatas,  and  discuss  theology  and  the  sciences. 
She  had  her  house  to  keep  in  order  and  her  cooking  to 
do. 

Once  upon  a  time,  if  Ophelia  had  been  required  to 
cook  a  single  meal,  she  would  have  considered  herself 
basely  misused.  She  would  have  baked  her  face,  burnt 
her  fingers  (and  smeared  herself  from  top  to  toe  with 
flour  and  grease*),  and  brought  in  her  ill-cooked  viands 
with  the  air  and  look  of  a  martyr.  Now,  if  you  should 
sit  down  to  her  neat  and  substantial  table,  you  would 
not  know  that  she,  who  sat  so  serenely  at  its  head,  had 
experienced  any  practical  knowledge  of  how  it  had  all 
come  to  pass. 

In  that  olden  time  she  had  thought  the  whole  of  her 
duty  accomplished  when  she  had  dressed  herself  be 
comingly  and  exerted  herself  to  the  fullest  extent  of 
her  ability  to  entertain  her  friends.  In  this  new  era  of 
her  existence  she  had  awakened  to  the  knowledge  that 
life  does  not  lie  upon  the  surface  of  things  ;  that  to  exist 
fully  and  completely  one  must  toil,  endure,  suffer, — 
whereby  we  are  made  capable  of  enjoyment. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  tendency  of  this  present  age 
is  too  much  toward  a  separation  of  the  sexes.  Their 
occupations  generally  keep  them  apart  during  the  day, 
and  for  recreation  men  resort  to  clubs,  games,  or  races, 
while  the  women,  left  alone,  fall  back  upon  the  inex- 


328  UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 

haustible  resources  of  scandal  and  dress.  How  much  less 
sighing  after  unattainable  perfection,  how  much  less  ob 
serving  of  each  other's  faults  and  fretting  over  irremedi 
able  evils,  if  husbands  and  wives — and  brothers  and 
sisters,  as  well — were  as  generous  with  their  pleasures  and 
enjoyments  as  they  usually  are  with  their  grievances. 

Not  participating  in  the  general  haste  to  get  rich 
which  characterizes  the  people  of  these  United  States, 
Ophelia  and  her  husband  had  large  margins  of  leisure, 
which  were  appropriated  to  recreation  and  improve 
ment.  These  hours  were  spent  by  Kingsley  in  literary 
pursuits, — writing  and  study ;  and  with  such  an  efficient 
aid  as  Ophelia,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  our  quon 
dam  "reporter"  is  likely  to  make  his  mark  in  the  lit 
erary  world. 

One  evening  in  the  early  spring,  as  Kingsley  sat  at 
his  writing  table  deeply  engrossed  in  the  preparation 
of  a  manuscript,  and  Ophelia  reclined  in  an  easy-chair 
not  far  away,  bending  a  perplexed  brow  over  an  exe 
gesis  of  the  "Credit  Mobilier  fraud/'  gradually  im 
pressing  upon  her  mind  how  public  insecurity  may  be 
produced  by  private  corruption,  and  how  the  safety,  as 
well  as  reputation,  of  nations  depends  upon  the  strict 
integrity  of  its  rulers,  there  was  a  sharp  tinkle  of  the 
door-bell. 

"  It  must  be  the  professor,"  said  Ophelia,  rising 
and  throwing  aside  her  book,  "and  I  am  very  glad  he 
has  come.  He  will  straighten  my  ideas  in  regard  to 
these  political  entanglements  with  a  few  words." 

"A  very  mild  thrust,  Ophelia,"  said  Kingsley, 
smiling.  "Really,  I  had  forgotten  your  anxiety  of 
mind  in  regard  to  the  national  welfare." 

There  was  no  time  for  further  tilting,  but  Ophelia  made 
her  exit  with  a  defiant  toss  of  the  head  that  was  equal 
to  a  chorus  of  trumpets.  In  a  few  moments  more  she 
made  her  reappearance,  leading  a  little  girl,  whose  keen 
black  eyes  darted  into  every  corner  of  the  room  at  once, 
finally  settling  upon  Kingsley,  who  was  still  writing. 


LOVE  IN  A    COTTAGE. 


329 


"I'm  going  to  have  that  dog!"  she  exclaimed, 
breaking  away  from  Ophelia  and  seizing  upon  Kings- 
ley's  inkstand. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  wouldn't  if  I  were  you,"  said  Kingsley, 
placing  his  hand  firmly  upon  the  bronze  dog  which 
held  his  ink. 

She  looked  a  moment  into  Kingsley's  firm  eye,  then 
relinquished  her  attempt  as  a  dead  speculation.  "Papa, 
/  didn't  do  anything,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  self-assured 
tone,  to  the  gentleman  who  stood  in  the  doorway  re 
garding  the  scene  with  a  sarcastic  smile, — "  I  was  just 
vs.  good.  And  he  hitted  I  too — I  declare  he  did,  now, 
sure  and  certain." 

"Truthful,  innocent  childhood!  "  said  the  gentle 
man,  ironically.  "  You  must  have  /////£</ her,  Kingsley. 
It  is  not  possible  she  could  be  guilty  of  an  untruth. 
Truthfulness,  you  know,  is  inherent  in  childhood,  and 
comes  by  instinct." 

"  Waltman,  as  I  live!"  exclaimed  Kingsley,  rising 
with  a  look  of  mingled  surprise  and  pleasure.  "  When 
did  you  arrive  ?  Why,  you  are  as  brown  as  a  Turk, 
and  as  handsome  as  ever,  notwithstanding  the  streaks 
of  gray  I  see  beginning  to  mingle  with  your  dark 
locks." 

"Yes,  I  have  lived  fast,"  he  returned,  "and  accept 
the  consequences  of  looking  elderly  and  blase  without 

complaint.  I  arrived  in  L some  three  or  four  days 

ago ;  I  left  my  wife  there,  with  some  friends  of  hers, 
and  ran  off  down  here  for  a  few  hours'  conversation 
with  you." 

"  So  you  are  married  again  ?"  said  Ophelia,  regard 
ing  him  thoughtfully.  "  I  had  not  heard  of  your  second 
marriage." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  did  not  entirely  approve  of 
it,"  he  said,  laughing  a  little  constrainedly.  "  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it.  You  know  when  I  went  to  the 
benighted  island  of  Chow-wow,  as  consul  and  represent 
ative  of  a  great  nation,  it  was  with  the  alacrity  of  one 
28* 


33° 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


who  escapes  from  a  stormy  sea  into  a  serene  harbor, 
but  I  found  the  harbor  about  as  stormy  as  the  sea.  It 
is  not  in  my  nature  to  remain  isolated  from,  and  unin 
fluenced  by,  my  surroundings  ;  and  but  for  a  counter 
acting  influence,  no  doubt  I  should  at  this  instant  be 
engaged  in  a  pitched  battle  with  the  belligerent  natives 
of  Chow-wow.  This  power  was  represented  in  the 
person  of  Ida  Hartley,  daughter  of  the  ex-consul,  who 
had  substituted  commercial  pursuits  for  his  official  duties, 
which,  by  the  way,  had  failed  to  remunerate  him  suffi 
ciently  for  the  respectable  support  of  his  family." 

"  Ida  Hartley  !"  exclaimed  Ophelia ;  "  I  wonder  if  it 
can  be  the  same  young  lady  with  whom  I  was  associated 

as  music-teacher,  in  the  B Institute  ? — the  most 

amiable,  unselfish  person  I  ever  knew." 

"The  same,"  confirmed  Sid ;  "  I  am  glad  you  know 
her.  That  will  save  me  much  description  and  explana 
tion.  All  that  it  is  necessary  to  add  is  that  there  is 
perfect  confidence  between  us,  and  a  true,  earnest, 
sober  affection.  If  she  had  known  that  '  the  Kingsleys' 
included  an  old  friend  of  hers,  she  would  have  accom 
panied  me  on  this  visit,  as  well  as  this  little  vixen,  whom 
I  brought  along,  partly  to  relieve  Ida  from  the  care  of 
her  (though  she  has  much  better  control  over  her  than 
I),  and  partly  to  exhibit  to  you  a  specimen  of  humanity 
in  its  natural,  unregenerate  state." 

"  She's  a  sweet  little  darling,  I'm  sure,"  said  Ophelia. 

"I  ain't,  now!"  And,  truly,  her  appearance  just 
then  justified  her  own  estimate  of  herself.  "  I'm 
hungry :  I  want  a  cake,"  was  her  next  remark. 

"  Certainly  she  shall  have  a  cake,"  replied  Ophelia, 
disappearing  in  the  direction  of  the  dining-room, 
notwithstanding  that  Sid  insisted  she  oughtn't  to  have 
it,  as  she  had  just  had  her  supper.  The  remainder  of  the 
evening  she  spent  in  munching  cake,  and  in  teaching  a 
music-stand  its  letters.  tArmed  with  Kingsley's  riding- 
whip  and  a  picture-book,  and  enthroned  upon  an  otto 
man,  she  played  the  petty  tyrant  with  all  the  bigotry  and 


LOVE  IN  A    COTTAGE. 


331 


instinctive  cruelty  of  her  elders.  If  the  poor  music- 
stand  whispered  the  wrong  letter,  it  was  fearfully  chas 
tised,  and  threateningly  warned  of  the  dire  consequences 
of  not  being  better  posted  in  future. 

When  her  papa  arose  to  take  his  departure,  she  pro 
tested  severely  against  being  removed  from  her  present 
comfortable  quarters,  but  finding  her  parent  inexorable, 
she  exacted  a  promise  that  she  should  come  back  again. 
"  Say  yes,  harder"  was  her  shrewd  protestation  against 
Sid's  feeble  lie. 

"I  see,  Kingsley,  that  you  have  relinquished  that 
idea  of  yours  that  you  were  destined  to  an  early  death," 
remarked  Sid,  slily,  as  they  stood  at  the  hall-door. 

"Yes,"  returned  Kingsley,  laughing  merrily.  "I 
have  other  things  to  occupy  my  mind  now,  rather 
more  pleasing,  and  much  more  encouraging.  I  am  not 
expecting  to  die  soon.  This  life  is  altogether  too  com 
fortable  an  affair  to  inspire  a  wish  to  have  done  with  it. ' ' 

"It  can  be  made  more  than  comfortable,"  returned 
Sid  gravely.  "  It  can  be  made  a  grand  success,  and  a 
blessing  to  ourselves  as  well  as  to  others." 


The  summer  is  ended :  my  story  is  done.  I  am  a 
little  wearied,  though  not  near  so  much  as  if  I  had 
plodded  through  the  tedious  work  alone. 

Whenever  I  thought,  "John  is  listening,  John  is 
pleased,"  then  my  thoughts  ran  more  fluently,  and  I 
felt  the  revivifying  influence  of  congenial  companion 
ship.  I  have  wanted  to  please  him,  because  his  nature 
is  genial,  truthful  and  magnanimous,  and  I  knew  that 
in  pleasing  him  I.  could  not  go  very  far  wrong. 

And  I  am  very  loth  to  give  you  up,  John,  because  I 
have  a  faint  suspicion  that  you  will  be  the  only  sym 
pathetic,  appreciative  audience  I  will  ever  obtain. 
You  look  a  little  serious,  too,  and  I  fancy  there  is  in 
your  mind  a  prophetic  dread  of  the  fate  which  lies  in 
wait  for  me  in  the  great  wide  world,  into  whose  hands 
my  future  is  thrown. 


332 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE. 


With  this  book  my  novitiate  ends,  and,  hereafter,  I 
can  have  no  excuse  for  shielding'  myself  from  the  gaze 
of  the  public  behind  your  sturdy  shoulders.  As  you 
rise  to  leave  me  all  alone,  my  little  sanctum  suddenly 
expands  into 

"  A  vast  lake  of  physiognomies,  whose  waves 
Are  human  faces." 

I  hear  a  clamor  of  many  voices.  Already  I  feel  the 
awful  stare  of  the  "public  eye."  I  perceive  that  some 
smile,  and  others  frown  :  some  murmur  applause,  others 
disapproval, — but  more  disapproval ;  for  it  is  a  charac 
teristic  of  the  human  mind  to  take  more  pleasure  in 
the  detection  of  fault  than  in  the  discovery  of  anything 
estimable. 

Do  I  quake  and  tremble  at  the  hoot  and  hurrah  ? 
Do  I  shrink  away,  and  feel  myself  to  be  altogether  less 
than  nothing?  No,  no,  John.  There  is  something 
invigorating  in  sharp,  keen  criticism.  Like  the  vigor 
ous  blast,  it  'infuses  into  our  sluggish  veins  new  life  and 
energy. 

Bearing  in  mind  that  a  noted  reviewer  once  inveighed 
against  dead  ripeness  in  the  outset,  as  a  sure  indication 
of  future  deterioration  and  decay,  and  recalling  Lord 
Byron's  insipid  "  Hours  of  Idleness,"  and  the  modest 
outstart  of  various  other  celebrated  writers,  I  am  en 
couraged  to  erect  some  towering  edifices  upon  that 
vague  and  airy  estate  entitled  The  Future.  However, 
whether  it  prove  a  success  or  a  failure,  this  book  in 
augurates  a  career,  even  though  it  prove  an  Iliad  of 
defeats. 

Farewell,  John.  Be  comforted  :  for  you  shall  see 
me  again,  I  assure  you. 


THE   END. 


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